Saturday, July 7, 2007

reverse culture shock

Strange travel suggestions are dancing lessons from God.
- Kurt Vonnegut


I suppose I’ve danced more than a wee bit, and it’s time to take a break, but I’d be eager to dance some more if I have the chance in a year or two! I already miss the constant newness of being a temporary expatriate. Before I stop, one last post. Thanks again for reading!


I’ve been back in the U.S. for almost a week now, and I’m still in shock. Coming back, I knew I would be different, but I had no idea how different my country would seem to me. If I’d gone somewhere where there was overwhelming poverty or widespread war, I would have expected to be shocked by the U.S.—but, on the surface, New Zealand isn’t that different from the U.S. I didn't think I'd have to adjust much upon my return. New Zealand is a democratic, fairly prosperous, Western country. But the people, their attitudes, and even their culture are actually vastly different from ours.


I miss how everything in New Zealand happens slowly, inefficiently, and fairly. I miss walking, biking, and taking the metro. I miss controversial conversations, strange and fascinating randoms, mismatched clothes, tea times, and all my new friends. Of course, I’m happy to be at home again and very glad to catch up with people I care about deeply. But there’s a part of me that wishes I could take everyone I know to New Zealand and stay there forever.


In some ways, I feel a wee bit like Rip van Winkle, coming home to find that everything (ok, not everything, but a lot) has changed since I’ve been gone. Postage has gone up, the original Willy’s (my favorite Mexican restaurant) has been renovated, Shirlee (my family’s hairdresser for the past forty or so years) is moving to a new location, and my cats have grown fatter. It’s the little things, really, that make home seem so different.


After adjusting to the driving rules of New Zealand, I just can’t deal with Atlanta traffic—six lanes of speeding, rude drivers is just too much to handle! I’m used to two-lane roads where slower drivers move to the side to let the faster drivers overtake them. I keep putting on my windshield wipers instead of the indicator (blinker) because they’re on the opposite sides of the steering wheel here. Suburbs and cars seem highly impractical, and just about everything here seems so big. And fast. And chaotic. Basically, I think there are a few too many people here. On the other hand, I do appreciate feeling a part of an important country - as opposed to New Zealanders, who tend to have an inferiority complex about their country's culture, location, and status internationally. It's nice to be in a country that creates its own culture, literature, etcetera, and doesn't have to import just about every food item and product from somewhere else in the world.


I’m going to try to keep Kiwi culture fresh in my mind as I begin my senior year . . . in the hopes that I’ll be able to enjoy it as much as I enjoyed New Zealand. I want to have flat dinners and crazy adventures, deep conversations and real discussions. At the very least, I want to have tea times (biscuits included), take bike rides, eat kiwifruits, adore sheep, go new places, and, of course, keep yelling out windows.

Saturday, June 30, 2007

leaving wonderland

Well, it's just about time for me to leave this crazy little island. I can hardly believe I've been away almost five months. Tomorrow I leave Christchurch at 3:00pm for Auckland, then fly overnight to LAX, then fly again at 3:10pm (still July 1) to ATL. Hooray!!!For a while, it seemed to me like July would never come - but it's here, almost. Back in February, I doubted that I was social enough to make it through the semester . . . but now, surprisingly and miraculously, I have made so many wonderful friends.

I can hardly wait, but at the same time I'm actually quite sad to leave the new friends I've made here. Though at times I felt like I was dreaming, this place has become my reality. I'm afraid I'm going to have some reverse culture shock for a bit, and I'm not really sure what to think now. These lines from Mary Chapin Carpenter's song "We're All Right" have been helpful throughout the semester, and I hope they'll be good advice in my transition back to "normal" life.

No roadmap, no signposts
No north star, no lifeboats
No miracles coming in sight
No voices to guide us, no angels beside us
No shaman, no mystical light
No omens, no compass, no seer, no prophet
No cavalry coming in sight
But we're all right
We're all right
We're all right

Anyway, I think I owe a big thank-you to everyone who encouraged me to go abroad - especially to those friends who had already gone and come back alive. :) This time has been more challenging than I could have imagined, but I'm so glad I came, even if I still don't know why I did. I'm so much looking forward to seeing EVERYONE again, and I'm also looking forward to manners, Southern hospitality, Elliott (my car), real coffee, my cats, country music (and public acceptance of it), a dishwasher, and not standing out in pink.

I'm also going to miss so much of my life in Wonderland, like the general laidback-ness of life, tea (dinner) in Flat 47, bike volunteering, ICF, tea times (although I think I might bring that home), walking everywhere, hokey pokeys, constant excitement, freedom from expectations, and all of my new friends. Of course, there's also a lot I won't miss, such as the metric system, unrefrigerated eggs, wearing the same clothes all the time, my flat, the dark and loud "library", general inefficiency, anti-intellectualism, and anti-religious sentiment. Of course, no place is perfect . . . but I'm ready to go back to normality, or at least what's normal for me.

I wish I could conclude in a perfect way, but I just don't know what to say. Thanks for reading, commenting, emailing, snail mailing, and sharing this country with me! I'm so thankful I made this crazy island my Wonderland . . .

Friday, June 29, 2007

Taiwan?

Well, after a crazy trip to China with its communism, censorship, and unhappy people, Dad and I moved on to Taiwan, where we met up with my cousin Bill and his girlfriend Crystal. Taiwan thinks it is its own country, but China doesn't really agree with that. The Chinese government likes to think it still controls Taiwan - it even calls it the Republic of China! On the customs forms, it lists Taiwan as a province. But, in actuality, China doesn't have that much actual control over Taiwan. They've only threatened to attack if Taiwan calls itself independent . . . hmmm.

Anyway, Taiwan was very different from China - we noticed the differences (and wonders of democracy and capitalism) the moment we landed! The airport experience, the traffic, the fact that some signs were actually in English, the blue sky, the people . . . just about everything there was more pleasant!

Bill and Crystal put us up in the Grand Hotel (see pictures), the most famous hotel in Taipei. It actually looks like a Chinese palace! We spent three night there, and we spent our days touring Taipei and the surrounding area. On our first day there, we visited the main tourist spots, like the National Palace Museum (where all the historical treasure from China are stored . . . the Chinese aren't too happy about that), the Chiang Kaishek Memorial (now called the Monument to Democracy because a lot of people are trying to erase him from the collective memory), and Taipei 101 (the tallest building in the world, which also has the fastest elevator in the world). On our second day there, we took a trip into the mountains to hike to a waterfall. Despite the rain, and mud, and a little lightning, it was a fun trip. Dad even got to pose with a bunch of Taiwanese lifeguards who'd just completed their training . . . I don't even know how that happened! On our third day there, we checked out the Buddhist and Confucian temples, as well as a pottery area near Bill and Crystal's home.

Then, we headed to the airport for our overnight flight to Sydney. After our flight to Auckland was delayed, we managed to get on another flight there so we'd make our connection to Christchurch. Then, when we arrived in Auckland, we found out our flight to Christchurch had actually been canceled, so we had to catch a later one. Eventually, we arrived in my fake home. It was wonderful to be back in the English-speaking, fork-using, unpopulated land of New Zealand.

Yesterday, I finished my one and only final exam (Latin)!! Today and tomorrow I'm packing and saying my goodbyes, and Sunday I head to the airport. It's cold here, and very rainy today. Somehow I managed to get a little sick - good timing, of course - but I'm trying to see as many friends as possible in the short time I have left here. Well, that's all for now. The internet in my room has already been cut off, so I'm having to use a computer in the common room. I'll post more when I get a chance. Only three more days (one of which, July 1, will be about 40 hours long) and I'll be back home!!

Sunday, June 24, 2007

seven days in china

Day 1: Arrival
On Friday afternoon, after an almost five-hour flight from Thailand, we arrived in the Beijing airport. On the plane, we filled out three different arrival forms—one for health, one for immigration, and one for declarations. At the airport, we handed the three different forms to three different officials, and only the immigration official actually looked at the form! Then, we made our way out to the airport shuttle buses, figured out which bus we needed, and made our way to the waiting area. There were already heaps of people there, and when the bus arrived, we weren’t even able to get on because we weren’t aggressive enough! We got on the next bus, though, and after about an hour of sitting in Beijing traffic, the bus stopped at what we thought was the railway station. We’d hoped there would be taxis available, but, alas, there were not. After some clueless meandering around the area—I really thought we might never get to the hotel—we finally found a taxi. The driver took off speeding down an alley, or hutong, supposedly toward our hotel. Several minutes later, Dad happened to look out the rear mirror and see our hotel. We both shouted and pointed, desperately trying to convey to the taxi driver that we were at our hotel. And, finally, we arrived—a good two and a half hours after our flight landed.

Already, we had figured out that taxi drivers don’t speak much English. After meeting up with my friend Grace, she informed us that a lot of the taxi drivers don’t actually know their way around the city too well. The government decided to recruit a lot of drivers for the Olympics, but they pulled the drivers from rural areas of China. As a result, most of the drivers know no English, and many of them are unfamiliar with major tourist attractions. As a general rule, every taxi ride in Beijing is an adventure in itself.

Day 2: The Summer Palace
The next morning, we headed to the Northwest section of the city to meet Grace and to go to the Summer Palace. After two taxi rides, we arrived at the palace, the summer home built by the Empress Dowager Cixi. She was a concubine of the Emperor who took over the country after he died. Instead of helping the country, she put China’s money toward a summer home for herself. Apparently, the Forbidden City wasn’t fancy enough for her! Cixi’s nephew was supposed to rule, but she wouldn’t let him; she even had him murdered the day before she died, just because she could. Although she was ruthless, she certainly knew how to build a palace! Her home was truly extravagant, with multiple buildings and corridors set on a hillside. We spent over three hours walking around the grounds and exploring the lake while trying to avoid stabbings by Chinese parasols and such.

Upon leaving the palace, we attempted to find a taxi to take us back to our hotel—not an easy task! The first taxi offered to drive us there for 250 yuan (pronounced “you-an”, equivalent to $40 American). We refused him and hastily agreed to go with another driver, who promised to use the meter. Somewhere along the way, he mentioned “meter three”, but we didn’t know what he meant. When we arrived at the hotel, we discovered that he’d meant the price would be three times what the meter read. As it turned out, he wasn’t a real taxi. We learned our lesson quickly—only ride in taxis that are clearly marked!

Then, we headed out to find a vegetarian restaurant near our hotel, but, after some searching, we realized it didn’t actually exist. Not so surprising, considering in China it is said that people eat “everything in the air besides airplanes, everything on land besides the table, and everything in the sea besides boats!” We ended up at another restaurant, where I quickly discovered the challenges of Chinese eating customs. The Chinese drink hot tea (usually jasmine) at every meal, no matter the outside temperature. In fact, they think that the higher the outside temperature is, the hotter their drinks should be! So, ordering drinks proved challenging, as Dad wanted black tea (which the Chinese scorn) and I wanted some water. We ended up with jasmine tea, which Dad calls not tea but “floating a flower through hot water” because it’s so weak. We had to page through a menu—a thick book with pictures of food—for a while before we decided what to order. In China, people don’t order individual meals; instead, they choose several dishes to share. The food arrives as it is ready, and it doesn’t even come with a serving spoon. Plates are hard to come by—if you don’t want to eat out of the communal dish, you have to use your saucer! Quite an experience for my germophobe self! I found the chopsticks impossible, and Grace had to ask the waitress for a fork for me. So, I ended up eating food I couldn’t recognize off a saucer with a plastic fork! As if that weren’t enough, on the way out of the restaurant, we saw a cooked pig—yes, a whole pig—wrapped up in a plastic grocery bag as if it were just any take home item!

Day 3: Church, temples, and shopping
On Sunday, we left our hotel early for church in another part of town. We all had to show foreign identification (passport or driver’s license) to prove we weren’t Chinese. Places of worship in China must register with the government, and this church had a license to exist so long as only foreigners attend. I’m not entirely sure about the rules for registration, but most Chinese people who go to church go to home-churches instead of traditional, Western churches to avoid government intervention.

After that, we headed to the Lama temple, a famous Buddhist temple in town. It’s not just a tourist attraction—lots of worshippers come to burn incense in front of statues of Buddha. I felt a bit like an intruder—like I was that annoying person wandering through a famous Cathedral during a worship service. Most of the worshippers seemed to just ignore the tourists as they bowed before the Buddhas. After a while, we all became Buddha-ed out! They all started to look the same! Finally, though, at the very back of the temple was a Buddha four stories high—and supposedly made out of a single piece of sandalwood!

Later that afternoon, we went to the Friendship Store, the place where, just a few years ago, only foreigners could shop. In theory, Westerners bought western designer-label products with their own currencies, thus strengthening the Chinese government financially. These days, the store still sells expensive products, but anyone can shop there. Then, we moved on to the Silk Market, a major tourist attraction for foreigners wishing to barter Chinese-style. Heaps of merchants line the aisles, begging shoppers to buy their trinkets and knock-off products. We left with a Red Army hat, a chop, and a blinking key chain of Mao that the vendor claimed was “good for the ecology” because it used solar power.

Just outside of the market, we hopped into a waiting taxicab, but we soon found out that the police wanted to write the driver a ticket! We think that he pulled into an illegal area to pick us up . . . so, the driver pulled over into a crosswalk while a policeman wrote his ticket. When the driver got back in the car, Dad gave him the card for our hotel (it’s common to give taxi drivers the Chinese name of the place where you’re going) and showed him his new keychain. Soon, we realized we’d passed our hotel and were in front of the Forbidden City—where a huge photo of Mao is displayed!

That night, we took another adventurous taxi ride over to the Haidian district to meet Grace’s host family. They live in a teeny flat, which is typical in China due to the high cost of living. Grace tried to translate for us, but mostly we just nodded and smiled.

Day 4: The Forbidden City and Hutongs
The following day, Dad and I ventured to the Forbidden City, home of the Chinese Imperial Family up until the early 1900’s. Officially, it’s called the National Palace Museum, but most people refer to it as the Forbidden City because it used to be forbidden for anyone to enter who wasn’t invited. It takes up about one square mile of the downtown area, and it’s filled with numerous elegantly decorated halls. After several hours there, we had seen only a fraction of the small area that’s even available to the public.

Dad and I enjoyed the translations here in particular . . . especially the Halls of Medium and Supreme Harmony and the Hill of Accumulated Elegance. We sometimes thought the Chinese named everything with the words, peace, harmony, or bliss—but maybe the names are just a result of a creative translator!

That night, after yet another taxi adventure, we met Grace near a park in the northern part of the city. We walked around the lake in the park, sometimes venturing into the hutongs to get a glimpse of normal life for the Chinese. There were lots of bars and street vendors along the lake, and people swam in the lake and exercised in what seemed like adult parks. Around Beijing, there are lots of parks with brightly-colored metal exercise contraptions similar to stationary bikes, elliptical machines, and chest presses. Grace told us that adults use them at night to get exercise, but it’s funny because they seem like a combination of a playground and a gym, and they’re in public.

Day 5: The Great Wall
On Tuesday, Dad and I set out early to meet our guide for the Great Wall, Aileen, and our driver. The day before, we planned the private tour to the wall, which was actually cheaper than the group tour offered by the hotel. We headed out to the Mutianyu section (there are about five popular sections of the wall near Beijing that are restored), where we hoped there would be few people. The Chinese people believe that they have to go to the Great Wall sometime in their lives to be good Chinese people; consequently, the small restored sections of the wall are usually packed with Chinese tourists. And, Chinese tourists tend to travel in large groups, stop often, take lots of pictures, and walk without looking where they’re going (there didn’t seem to be a general custom of staying to the right, as in the US, or the left, as in NZ).

Fortunately, the wall wasn’t too crowded, and we were only pestered by vendors on the way to the cable car. On the way up, we took a car that the claimed that the Seventeenth Living Buddha rode in it. We walked along the wall for a while, although it was not nearly as tall as I’d imagined—and apparently it’s a myth that it can be seen from space! On the way down, we rode in a cable car that Bill Clinton took when he visited the Wall in 1998.

That night, we met up with Grace to go to what we thought was Beijing’s only Mexican Restaurant. Chinese food all tastes the same to me! We had a pseudo-Mexican meal, complete with salsa, rice and beans, and peas and carrots!

Day 6: The Temple of Heaven, The Beijing Zoo, and another Taxi Adventure
On our last full day in the city, Dad and I took a taxi to the Temple of Heaven, the temple and huge park south of the city where the emperors used to go to pray for good harvests. Yep, an entire park and temple complex devoted to asking the gods to give the Chinese people a good crop yield. As Dad often says, and was clear at the park, “The Chinese don’t dink around.” When they build something, they go all out!

Then, we moved on to the zoo, where we met up with Grace to look at the Giant Pandas. Sadly, the zoo only had four, and only one lived outdoors. Two lived in depressing glass cages, and the other lived in a big, wire box outside. The one outdoor panda was fairly lively, walking around his pen and eating bamboo shoots for the crowd.

We decided we’d try to find a different vegetarian restaurant for dinner. Since the first veggie restaurant didn’t actually exist, we called this restaurant first to make sure that they were open. Our maps didn’t show the street where it was, so we made an alternate plan. We flagged a taxi as Grace rung the restaurant again and handed the phone to the taxi driver. We thought it’d be simple to just have the people at the restaurant tell the driver how to get there . . . after about forty-five minutes of driving, we weren’t so sure! The driver drove down some hutongs, and eventually he used his hand to make a phone sign, and Grace dialed up the restaurant again. We thought that surely this time we’d get there.

Several minutes later, the driver pulled down another alley, and, still confused, turned into a side street. Other cars started to honk while the driver talked to the restaurant again. Then, he got out of the car and asked some of the locals where the restaurant was. He came back over the car, motioning for us to stay put. Of course, we weren’t going anywhere—we had no idea where we were! Soon, we looked back and saw a woman in a green dress coming toward the taxi . . . it was a waitress from the restaurant! Needless to say, our driver got a nice tip! The waitress led us through some thick shrubbery inside (we couldn’t possibly have seen it), where we enjoyed a nice meal of fake meat, including the famous Peking Duck!

Day 7: Flying
On Thursday, we woke up early to head to the airport, finally! I was tired of China’s dodgy hygiene, unorderliness, overcrowding, grey haze of pollution, censorship, and unpurified water. Due to the amount of pollution in the city from the 14 million people who live there, the sky doesn’t get blue. Only in autumn does the grey haze go away. The water is unsafe to drink—even the locals avoid it—so tons of people are employed every day to transport bottled water by car (or bike!) to locations all around the city. Dad and I are really curious to hear about the Beijing Olympics. We imagine marathon runners won’t be too pleased about the air! And it should be interesting to see how the influx of Western visitors view the Chinese government, the city of Beijing, and the more mundane aspects of the country such as the hole-in-the-ground toilets and the suffocating pollution. Although Beijing is excited about the Olympics, the city certainly doesn’t seem at all ready for the big event!

After yet another adventurous taxi ride (we were stuck in the same place on the highway for about twenty minutes because a high-ranking Chinese politician was also going in our direction), we arrived at the airport. There we filled out more forms that nobody looked at, passed through customs, and awaited our flight to a more democratic country! We had to stop in Hong Kong because the Chinese government doesn’t permit airplanes to fly straight to Taiwan. There’s more than a little tension between the two countries. After a full day of flying, we landed in Taipei, where cousin Bill and Crystal met us at the airport. We’re enjoying Taiwan, its culture, its freedom, and the company of Bill and Crystal, but I’ll write more about that later.

Saturday, June 23, 2007

"Ni Hao" and "Wo bu yow"

Those two phrases, meaning, "hello" and "I don't want it," are the essential Chinese phrases I learned in Beijing. It's helpful to greet people in their own language - they tend to warm up to you a bit - and it's also necessary to tell postcard sellers / rickshaw drivers / clothing vendors that you don't want whatever item they're pressuring you to buy. Chinese people aren't the least bit shy about asking you to buy something! More to come . . .

My apologies for not posting earlier . . . due to censorship in China, I could not access the blog. Dad and I landed in Taipei two nights ago, and we've been busy with Bill and Crystal ever since then. I'll try to post soon, but pictures from our most recent adventures are up.

Thursday, June 14, 2007

Sawasdee

“Sawasdee” means “good morning” or “good evening,” and it’s how all the Thai hotel staff greet us. With big, welcoming smiles, they mutter “sawasdee” as they bring their hands into what we’d consider a prayer-like position under their chins. (There are 13 different Thai words for “smile,” and after being here for a day, I understand why. They’re quite a smiley bunch of people!)

This morning, Dad and I set out early after a complimentary breakfast and lots of help from the Thai woman who greeted us yesterday—and who, according to Dad, is the friendliest, most helpful person we’ve encountered so far. She wrote our destinations in Thai and advised us on the best ways to get around the city. We wanted to avoid traffic after our experiences yesterday on the streets. Soon, we set out, hoping to see Wat Arun (the tallest Buddhist shrine in the city), the Grand Palace, and lots of other sites in the city centre. The Marriott boat ferried us to the main terminal, where we bought tickets for the tourist ferry. That ferry took us upstream to another pier; from there, we were able to buy a ticket across the river for 3 Baht (the currency—there are 38B to the American dollar). We toured the Wat, climbed up its steep stairs, and then retreated to the nearby market (with toilets costing 3B that had hoses) for some shade. By that point, we were both dripping wet in sweat. I’ve never been so uncomfortably hot in my life—Thailand has to be one of the hottest places on the planet! (Today, the high was 36 celsius with humidity at approximately 200%.)

After that adventure, we took the tourist ferry to another stop and planned to see the Grand Palace and the National Museum. We shuffled through heaps of street vendors and people selling Buddhist trinkets on the ground, trying to keep on walking without stepping on anything or anyone. The pollution was overbearing—it’s no wonder we saw so many motorcyclists and construction workers wearing face masks. I found it extremely frustrating walking along the streets as people stopped suddenly to examine jewelry, bracelets, and charms. I couldn’t understand what was going on—everything looked the same to me! The chaos of the streets, coupled with the heat and the pollution, were just too unbearable, so we turned around. (Later, back at the hotel, we found out about the current amulet fad. Apparently, people buy them thinking that the charms with pictures of the Buddha will give them wealth and luck. A newspaper article from an English paper here criticized people for wearing the amulets without actually trying to live a good life. Despite the amulet fad, Buddhism is huge here; 95% of the population is Theravada Buddhist—a big change after secular New Zealand.)

Back inside the Marriott’s walls, we’re enjoying the air-conditioning, complimentary food, and kind service. It’s such a relief to be out of the dirtiness and chaos of the river and the streets. Eight million people live in this city, and I have no idea how they manage it—the transportation, the weather, the crowding all make life a huge challenge. Despite globalization and modernization, it’s still really difficult to understand how the Thais people operate. And although we didn’t see that much, we certainly got the feel of the city. But I really wish I could understand this place and its people as more than merely foreign or other.


Some interesting info about Thailand from Wikipedia:

Books and other documents are the most revered of secular objects - therefore one should not slide a book across a table or place it on the floor.

The staple food in Thailand is rice, particularly jasmine variety rice (also known as Hom Mali rice) which is included in almost every meal. Thailand is the world's largest exporter of rice, and Thais domestically consume over 100 kg of milled rice per person per year. Over 5000 varieties of rice from Thailand are preserved in the rice gene bank of the International Rice Research Institute (IRRI), based in the Philippines. The King of Thailand is the official patron of IRRI.

The Thai
alphabet is used to write the Thai language and other minority languages in Thailand. It has forty-four consonants, fifteen vowel symbols that combine into at least twenty-eight vowel forms, and four tone marks.

and we're in asia now . . .

Disclaimer: Blogger has decided to change its language to Thai, so I don't know if this post will show up correctly. It's now Thursday afternoon, but I'm publishing this post I wrote last night now because we haven't had internet since I wrote.

It’s Wednesday night in Bangkok, and Dad and I are enjoying our Thai “resort.” By that, I mean, we’ve seen the city enough for one day—transport from the airport to the Marriott took longer than the flight earlier today from Kuala Lumpur to Bangkok—and we’re in for the evening. After arriving in the city around 2:30 pm, we made our way through “immigration” and found a bus to the city. For the next hour, I stared out the window, in shock, as Dad took photos and movies of our surroundings. On the bus we passed shantytowns and skyscrapers, empty fields and high-rise apartments, Buddhist shrines and enormous propaganda-like photos of the king, as the driver navigated the perilous expressway, where lane lines seemed to be merely interesting suggestions. We managed to procure a taxi on our second attempt—the driver of the first taxi to pull over didn’t speak any English and wouldn’t go to our hotel—and this driver transported us from the city centre through the chaos of traffic to our hotel, where guards outside checked the car for bombs. Comforting, eh?

Once we went inside, the formally-dressed clerk informed us that because we were “premiere” customers (Dad’s using Marriott points, so the hotel is free), we needed to check in somewhere else. As he guided us across the foyer, another hotel worker met us and asked us what we’d like to drink, offered us a gourmet buffet of appetizers, fruit, and desserts, and took our passports. After enjoying “happy hour” for a bit, the woman led us to our room and kindly informed us that we’d been upgraded to a suite with two queen beds! Shortly thereafter, a woman stopped by asking if we wanted our beds turned down, and a man came by with complimentary “avocado dip” and salsa with chips. My first real salsa in four months! And classical music started playing spontaneously from the television!

Tonight we’re staying in, safe and far away from the chaos, dirty heat, and stench of Bangkok. We’re enjoying the room with its background classical music as we see fireworks shooting through the air in the city centre. Before the sun set, though, we could see the shantytowns from our wrap-around balcony. As welcoming as the staff is here, and as luxurious as this hotel is, I find it a bit disconcerting that we’re surrounded by so much poverty. I had no idea Bangkok wasn’t glamorous and ritzy; instead, it’s crowded, dirty, smelly, and chaotic enough to be frightening. Exploring tomorrow should prove a challenge.

But, I need to back up a few days. On Sunday, Dad and I arrived early from our respective destinations in Sydney, where we met in the airport. After several lung-squishing hugs, we made our way to the rental car booth and tried to hire the car we’d asked for. After a lot of miscommunications, we ended up with a Nissan (pronounced Niss-ann) Tida. I drove us to our hotel near Darling Harbour as Dad offered navigational advice for the city’s one-way streets and no-right-or-left-turn here signs. We spent the day wandering around the harbour and taking a train to see a market in King’s Cross—the seedy neighbourhood where I stayed two months ago. Because of some light rain, there wasn’t much going on at the market, so we headed back over to our part of town.

The next day, we drove to Koala Park Sanctuary outside of town to see some native-wildlife close-up. Besides the abundance of small children at the park and the tricky driving, the day was a success. Well, almost. For dinner, we decided to walk over to Glebe, a theoretically nearby neighbourhood that had a vegetarian restaurant I’d read about in my Australia tour book two months ago. After some wandering through some not-so-well-lit areas, we eventually stumbled upon “Badde Manners,” which turned out to be a pretty cool vege restaurant after all.

On Tuesday, we drove our hired car back to the airport, checked in—after a five-minute power outage—and passed through customs. Our plane was fairly empty—a good thing—since there turned out to be a few too many babies and some folks with tendencies to lean their seats back for long periods of time. By long, I mean the entire eight and a half hours it took to fly across the Australian continent and over some sea of which I don’t know the name, to Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia. After “disembarking,” taking the “aerotrain” to customs, and finding our luggage, we walked through a tunnel to Hotel Pan Pacific. We’d planned to meet up with my friend Fiona (who I met on my flight from Atlanta to Los Angeles), but by the time we arrived in our room, it was too late. She lives in town, and we were too far outside of town without any efficient way to get to town or any energy to do so to meet her.

This morning we awoke early, determined to make it into the city before our 1:20pm flight to Bangkok. The super-friendly folks at the hotel (by the way, Malaysians might just be the friendliest people on the planet—friendlier even than southerners) helped us find our way back to the airport, where a man arranged a “taxi” for us to the city. We happily agreed to the plan, excited to be able to see at least some of the city in so short a time. The man who arranged the “taxi” then led us down to the carpark to his car and proceeded to drive us into the city, giving us an informal tour along the way. He stopped at the perfect photo spot to have a picture with the twin towers in the background and then drove us to the Chinatown market that Dad wanted to explore.

We didn’t have much time in the city due to its distance from the airport and our possibly over-ambitious itinerary, but we enjoyed seeing the city nonetheless. Construction abounded despite the presence of many decrepit buildings, and the city was clearly divided between the new and old sections. Our “taxi driver” pointed out the government buildings along the way—they’re all clustered in one neighbourhood—and noted that all the government workers live in that neighbourhood. Interesting idea, but somehow it seemed a bit big-brother-ish, too. He told Dad he worked at the airport, so we think maybe he was taking some time off to make a little extra cash. So, there’s little corruption in Malaysia. But, like most of the other Malaysians we encountered, he spoke good-enough English and was extremely polite. The Malay language, unlike Thai, uses the same letters that we do, and English signs were abundant and fairly clear. Not so in Thailand. For the first time on this trip, the language barrier actually seems to be somewhat of a barrier. The toilets, too, are different. To say the least, there are sometimes holes in the ground and hoses in rooms that claim to be bathrooms. The Thai alphabet looks like scribbles to me, and few people (besides the ones at the hotel) speak much English. Tomorrow should be an adventure, as we try to visit famous shrines (the country is mostly Buddhist) and markets, and just get around the city.

Saturday, June 9, 2007

the end (of lectures)!

Hooray! Today was my last day of lectures, and tomorrow I'm headed to Sydney to meet Dad! This week has been a bit hectic, with essays to turn in and a dirty flat to clean. This afternoon I had the pleasure of cleaning the fridge - a task that took almost an hour. It was foul! Tonight I attended Wine Club with my friends Tori and Chris, and we tasted "Wines of the Empire" - in other words, wines from NZ, Australia, and South Africa. Apparently the "motherland" does not make sufficiently good wines for us to bother with.

Over the next two weeks, I should have internet access (thanks to Dad's mad hotel-booking skills) so I'll try to post when I can. Here's our ridiculous itinerary:

June 10 - meet in Sydney

June 12 - fly to Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia, for one night (we had to stop there on our way, and we're going to see a friend I met on my first flight from Atlanta to Los Angeles in February)

June 13 - fly to Bangkok, and avoid mosquitoes (and malaria)

June 15 - fly to Beijing (and see my dear friend Grace from Wake Forest)

June 21 - fly to Taipei, Taiwan to meet up with cousin Bill

June 24/25 - fly overnight to Sydney, then to Auckland, then to Christchurch

Wednesday, June 6, 2007

Insanity: Reflections on a Road Trip

After six days of some intense togetherness, the five of us are still friends. At least, I think we are. Last Wednesday morning, I left for the Christchurch airport with Tori, Rachel, Hayley, and Moana. Having just found out about Ilam Village’s mandatory “task-based cleaning,” and overwhelmed with work, we were all ready to skip a few days of lectures. Our first wee disagreement—of many—arose over the time we needed to leave for the airport. I thought we needed to get to the airport a good hour and a half or so before the flight, but Moana insisted that we needed only to arrive half an hour before our flight was scheduled to leave. She even said that planes waited for people who were late! We ended up leaving the Flats around 10am, and, after riding two buses, arrived at the airport shortly after 11am. We didn’t have to wait in a queue to check in or to go through security. After we boarded the plane, I overheard the flight attendants discussing the two people they were waiting for . . . so the planes really do wait!


After a short and pleasant flight, we arrived in Rotorua, where Moana’s dad picked us up from the airport in the van he’d hired from the church where he works. Hayley, who says she isn’t religious, didn’t know what to make of it! Soon, we arrived in Tauranga, a port town in the Bay of Plenty where Moana’s parents live. According to lecturer Mike, the Bay of Plenty is the Bible Belt of New Zealand. While there were some traces of Christianity in the town, it certainly wasn’t at all like the American South and Midwest!

The next day, the other three Americans and I explored “The Mount” of Tauranga, the city’s big attraction. After some planning the night before and some criticism of the planning, we’d finally agreed on visiting “The Mount.” I’m still not too sure why it’s so special—it is, after all, just a random volcanic hill—but it did offer some good scenery. Tori and I walked around its perimeter while Rachel and Hayley tramped up to the summit. That night, we made Peter and Mary, Moana’s parents, an almost-authentic Mexican meal, complete with home-made tortillas and guacamole. I think I’ve now mastered the guacamole recipe—it was a hit!


The third day, we drove back to Rotorua, or Roto-Vegas, as the locals call it. On the way, we stopped at a giant kiwifruit to take pictures. We would later find out that the North Island has an astonishing array of enormous statues. Anyway, Rotorua is a famous tourist attraction because of its sulfur hot pools. Basically, there are little ponds with bubbling mud, and the entire town stinks of rotten eggs. We all agreed that the “play structure,” as Rachel calls it, was the highlight!



We spent our last day at McLaren falls, a park in Tauranga, and in Katikati, a nearby small town. That night, after we had dinner with Moana’s parents—Mary cooked heaps of food!—we made American s’mores for the Minsons. Rachel’s parents had brought graham crackers with them when they visited her, and I had authentic American marshmallows (although bunny-shaped) thanks to Mom’s Easter package. Neither essential ingredient can be found anywhere in the country! So, we roasted marshmallows and enjoyed s’mores Cadbury-style (in other words, with super thick and rich chocolate)! Moana is now determined to find a suitable substitute so she can continue the tradition. Then, to finish off the loveliness, we watched the newest version of Pride and Prejudice. Although it doesn’t live up to the 5-hour BBC version or do justice to the book, it was still comforting to watch such a wonderful story with my new(ish) friends.


On Saturday morning, we awoke early to drive to Wellington. Sadly, Mary and Peter couldn’t come with us. They were so hospitable to us—Mary once even apologized for making so much food! It was delightful to be in a house and to be around their cats and their dog, Paula. We left Tauranga early enough to make a stop at Lake Taupo, the largest lake in the Southern Hemisphere. Apparently, when a crater / meteor / (unspecified scientific object) hit the area, the explosion could be seen from China! After a short walk and a trip to the Super Loo (see the photo album), we left. And . . . I drove! On the left side! Hayley had been driving most of the time, and she wasn’t too keen to give up the keys. Nevertheless, it was fun for the short time it lasted. After 9 hours on the road through the emptiness of the island with only the occasional large statue to amuse us, we arrived in Wellington just in time to have dinner with Moana’s brother and his friends from work.


We stayed at Daniel’s flat that night, and I will honestly say that it was THE dirtiest, smelliest, most unsanitary flat I’ve even seen. Thankfully, Daniel’s room was clean(ish), and he let four of us share his bed—but the rest of the flat was almost unbearable. To sum it up, there was black mold in the shower, and one of the other flatmates had beer on tap. Water from the bathroom crept out into the hallway and the kitchen, and all flat surfaces were covered with dirty dishes. It wasn’t safe to go shoeless. And all of the sudden Flat 42 began to look like paradise.


We all survived the night and left very early to catch the ferry to the South Island. None of us even brushed our teeth for fear of the bathroom. After a bumpy ferry ride, we docked on the South Island, picked up our second hired car, hit the road, and named our Ford Focus Zoom Dog. (The first car, a Toyota Corolla—very different from American Corollas—was called Squeakers.) Like I mentioned in the previous post, every so often we’d all roll down the windows and scream for a wee bit. It’s nice and cathartic—I’d recommend it. After so much togetherness, sometimes you just need to scream. (After all, it’s better to scream out the window than at the driver!)



I’ve spent the past two days frantically catching up with work and trying to turn in my last few assignments. I’m even more intensely aware of the time than I usually am—only three more working days, and then I’ll meet up with Dad in Sydney for our big adventure to Asia! While I still don’t really know why I’m here, I do know why I’m away—(and at the risk of sounding cliche) to grow up, to realize my southern-ness and appreciation of manners, to take a break from the chaos of Wake Forest, to meet people from all over the world, to learn to be friends with people who are different in every way that matters, and, especially, to scream out windows of endearingly named hired cars.

Monday, June 4, 2007

We're all crazy!

We're all crazy!


I just returned from my crazy road trip tonight . . . pictures are up, and a real blog is on the way. Until then, a summary:

5 Girls
6 Days
2 Islands
16 hours in 2 Hired Cars (named Squeakers and Zoom Dog)
1 Ferry
1 Plane
1 Church Van
4 Minsons (Moana's family)
1 Pavlova
5 Lectures skipped

And we realized we're all insane! Every so often we'd roll down the windows of the car and scream, just because. More to come . . .

Monday, May 28, 2007

Why Am I Here?

After three and a half months of living on this little island, I still don’t really know why I came here. People (friends here included) sometimes ask me why I picked New Zealand, and I don’t have an answer. It’s a mystery, really. I’m not “outdoorsy” in any sense of the word, and am rarely what people here would call “adventurous.” I enjoy sunlight and history, both of which are only here in small quantities: The sun rises at 7:30am and sets by 5:00pm; the short history of this place is not considered important by the people who live here. Sadly—and I should have known this before I made this island my destination for five months—there are no ancient ruins, much less anything “old.”


Without my eccentric group of friends here, I don’t know how I would have survived this long in a land where people revere the landscape above all else. (I am somewhat weary of scenery, and of admiring it.) Tonight after dinner in Flat 47, well, it was one of the times that made me glad to be a in a foreign place. Over tea, my friend Rachel asked us for input on her essay about the relationship between travelling, identity, culture, and “the other.” We discussed the ways we see other cultures, and how they help us make sense of our own culture and identity. We all agreed that we analyze everything here in terms of how it relates to what is normal for us. For example, we view Kiwis as laid-back and inefficient because we are comparing their society to our (fast-paced and busy) society back in America.


It seemed that we all have essays due in the coming days, so we decided to discuss everyone’s essay topics. We debated the characteristics of classic literature (Hayley’s essay), the merits of a multi-party system of government (Adam’s essay), the attitudes toward the environment as they relate to Christian thought (Tori’s essay), and the interpretation of violence in sacred texts (Chris’ essay). I’m currently writing about the manners and sensibility of the ideal men in Sense and Sensibility. There isn’t much up for debate on that topic . . . it’s hard to beat Colonel Brandon and Edward Ferrars!


It’s already Monday night, and I leave Wednesday morning for my trip to Tauranga with Moana (the token Kiwi), Rachel, Hayley, and Tori. Until then, I’ll be working hard on my essay and trying not to get too distracted talking to people! I’ll definitely miss tea times that stretch for hours!


In preparation for our trip, we’ve been emailing a bit. An excerpt from Moana’s email gives you a wee glimpse into Kiwi culture and the spectrum of beliefs held by our various friends, as well as her lovely sense of humour:


“Mum's keen to make Pavlova*. :D Prepare to be amazed.

I however, am coming down with something. (sore throat and general yukkiness). Send me your [insert religious and/or secular comment here] to help me get better for the trip, okay?”


* “Pavlova is a meringue dessert named after the ballet dancer, Anna Pavlova. It is crispy on the outside but light and fluffy inside. Some sources claim the recipe originated in New Zealand, while others claim it was invented in Australia. However, like the Anzac biscuit, the earliest known books containing the recipe were published in New Zealand.”

(http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pavlova_(food))

Thursday, May 24, 2007

Art, etc.

In my religion class, we're looking a different "prophets" who speak criticism into New Zealand society. Most of them aren't Christians but have some religious leanings or are preoccupied with spirituality. This week, we're studying Colin McCahon, New Zealand's most famous painter worldwide. He said he could never quite profess to be a Christian, but he incorporates Christian themes in much of his art. According to Mike, he's one of the few Kiwi painters who depicts the landscape as more than a commodity or merely the picturesque; instead, he tries to find meaning in the landscape through religious traditions. I found him fascinating . . .




This one is one of my favourites, and I posted a few of his other paintings if you're interested. (http://picasaweb.google.com/anniemurphy85/ArtEtc)

Wednesday, May 23, 2007

Pavlova and Jabs

Sadly to report, the past week hasn't been too terribly exciting. With the exception of tea with the Simmons-Weakleys and a visit to the doctor, I've been mostly studying and writing. By "mostly," I mean more than usual, which is still not a significant amount. In fact, my friend Audrey today told me she thought I was a bit hard-out (intense) about school here; then I had to inform her of my plans to skip three days of lectures next week for a road trip.

As for the doctor visit, well, it was a bit of a culture shock. I thought I was used to this place, but, no I am not. I went to the Student Health Centre last Friday to ask about getting shots for traveling, and the receptionist asked me to come back in an hour to talk to a nurse. When I did, she informed me that I actually had to talk to a doctor. She was nice enough to print out some information about Malaria and some other horrible disease, and she pointed me to the CDC website. (A bit ironic, I thought, considering that I grew up in the city where the CDC is located.) Anyway, I returned on Monday for an appointment with the actual doctor, and he started my asking about my itinerary. I told him where Dad and I are going, and for how long, and then he proceeded to talk to me about every possible disease I could possibly contract while in those countries.

I learned some fascinating statistics about rabid dogs in Bangkok and the percentages of people who encounter them. He also made me aware about the very high probability of drinking bad water and the subsequent very unpleasant consequences. As for the more deadly diseases, he told me about the vaccinations at the same time as he judged their relative costs. He specifically told me which medicines were less expensive than others, and he seemed excessively concerned that I pick the least costly ones. After we'd discussed all the possibilities and decided on the shots I'd need, he told me that it was time to get jabbed. "Just go back to the waiting room and the nurse will call you for jabs," he told me. Somehow getting "jabbed" seemed worse than getting a shot. I survived the multiple jabs surprisingly well, but one arm is quite swollen still from what I think was a tetanus shot.

On Sunday night, the Simmons-Weakleys invited me over for tea with their family and Lindsay, the other American who spent the first week of holiday with the family. Brigid cooked spanikopita and baked bread; we also had a salad with mayonnaise-which is considered dressing here. After dinner, we had Pavlova for dessert. It's a fluffy cake-looking sweet thing with cream on top. Brigid even made fresh cream-which prompted a discussion about making things by hand and the fact that we do not do that in America. Apparently, New Zealanders and Australians fight over who created Pavlova. No matter where it originated, it was delightful. Then, we had tea. Of course.

In other news, my friend Genevieve is leaving for Canada tomorrow to take a break from her PhD and to visit her family. I went over to her flat tonight to say goodbye because she is going away for two months, and I'll be back in the states before she returns to Kiwiland. Today, I succeeded in making bread from scratch in my questionably sanitary kitchen. I didn't even need to take a picture of it - cooking something that's actually edible isn't a novelty anymore.

Well, it's time for bed. I have my bike route in the morning, so tomorrow will be a long day. But, in only a week's time, I'll be in Tauranga at my friend Moana's house. Then, I'll be in Christchurch for just under a week. Then, I leave to travel with Dad. Then we come back to Christchurch so I can take a final exam. And, finally, I come home - July 1!

Wednesday, May 16, 2007

biscuits and grits!



Biscuits and grits night with Ashley and Genevieve! I made buttermilk biscuits from scratch and instant grits (thanks to Mom), and Ashley made American pancakes. Ashley and Genevieve hadn't had grits before, and Genevieve had never eaten a biscuit! I had to exlplain that because I don't cook (or eat) meat, that this meal was greatly lacking in grease and was thus not truly Southern. But it was close enough, and Genevieve went away feeling quite full. So Southern Breakfast food for dinner was a success!

Tuesday, May 15, 2007

Tempus fugit.* Three whole months!

Well, I’ve been here three whole months plus a day! (I intended to write yesterday but got distracted by tea with a German.) Although I’ve been on this strange island a while now, I still haven’t adjusted to certain aspects of Kiwi life. I sometimes forget that I’m not supposed to look people in the eye, much less smile, when I pass them; when I forget, I often get a confused scowl in return. And dreadlocks, well, I still don’t understand the attraction. They are quite the ‘do here, at least on the Canterbury campus.


At the same time, there are some daily activities that remind me just how long I’ve been away. For instance, I’ve memorized the PIN for my phone card without even trying. I actually see people I recognize around campus. I’ve found shortcuts to class and figured out the maze that is the library. My selection of clothes has grown boring, and my hair is reaching unmanageable lengths.


My lectures are starting to get a bit dull, and the excitement of studying with Kiwis has worn off a bit. I’m tired of Latin pronouns, 18th Century novels—with the exception of Jane Austen’s, of course—and the confusions of religion in New Zealand. I actually have to do a bit of work these days (surprise, surprise!), but I’m focusing my essays on things of interest to me, such as Sense and Sensibility and modernist Christianity.


In two weeks, I’m headed up to the North Island for a plane-road-ferry-road trip with some friends. We’re going to fly up to visit Moana’s parents in Tauranga, a town in the Bay of Plenty (top of the North Island) and explore the surrounding area. We’ll hire a car to Wellington, take the ferry across Cook Strait, and hire a car back to Christchurch. And, I’m going to drive! I’m not too worried because I’ve been riding my bike so much around the city that I don’t even think about staying on the left side of the road. We’re leaving on a Wednesday, so I’m working hard to get the rest of my essays written before I leave. When we come back, there will be only four days of school left!


This past Saturday, I left with the other Butler folks early Saturday morning for Hamner Springs, a typical tiny New Zealand town with the added attraction of hot sulfur pools. First, though, we biked in the mountains around the area for a couple hours. For the first hour or so, the ride was exhilarating. Then, I got tired and the trails got narrow. Really narrow. I managed to make it back to town, and then we all headed to the hot pools to relax for a bit. It was a classic tourist trap, but fun nonetheless.


Then, we boarded the bus again for Kaikoura, our destination. We pulled into the marae late in the afternoon, and the Maori people there greeted us with a short version of their welcoming songs and chants. We participated in a hongi (yes, the nose-touching ritual), and then it was time for afternoon tea with them. After that, the chairman of the tribe described the history of the artwork inside the marae and gave us his opinions on the current state of Maori affairs in New Zealand. He knows his whakapapa (genealogy, pronounced “faa-ka-pa-pa”) back for many generations. The Maoris really emphasize the importance of remembering their ancestors, and they identify themselves by their families, as well as by the mountains and rivers that mark their places of birth. (Pictures aren’t allowed inside the marae because the ancestors inscribed in it are sacred.) Janyne, our Butler student liaison and a Maori, told us that to be welcomed into this tribe she’d just have to tell them her whakapapa back to her grandmother because her grandmother is so well known. According to custom, when one Maori comes to the marae of another tribe, he or she will recite their whakapapa backwards in history until they find common ancestry.


The next day, we rose early to eat breakfast on the marae and to get ready for whale watching. We headed down into town to Whale Watch Kaikoura, the boat company owned entirely by Maoris because of a settlement with the government ten or so years ago. We set out on the boat with a bunch of other tourists and headed out to the deep part of the Pacific Ocean to watch for sperm whales. We’d approach the whales slowly while they were breathing, watch them—though they looked more like floating logs than whales—and then snap as many pictures as possible as they flipped their tails up and dove back under the water. Finally, after two hours and three whale sightings, it was time to go back to shore. Then, we drove to the lookout at the end of the Peninsula and headed back to our fake homes in Christchurch.


In Flat 42 news, the male randoms inhabiting the common room just departed today. German Maria was brave enough to ask them to clean up their mess, and they actually removed most of their rubbish from the past five days. So we’re back to the usual five flatmates instead of eight!


Kiwi Vocabulary Word:

Hoover – verb, meaning “to vacuum” or “to sweep up.”

Example : A certain flamate ought to hoover the mess his friends made.


*Time flies. (My apologies for the Latin, but I feel the need to get some use out of it!)

Sunday, May 13, 2007

floating logs, etc.



Pictures from the weekend are up! I survived mountain biking despite some perilous trails and came away realizing the extent of my ineptness at outdoor activites. Whale-watching was quite a touristy adventure, but we saw three HUGE whales. Hayley and I thought they looked more like logs in water than exotic animals, but I suppose they were cool nonetheless. More later - Latina me vocat.

Thursday, May 10, 2007

drama, drama, and more drama

Just when I thought that I had nothing to report because life was normal, or almost normal . . . the drama began.


Sometimes my friends and I start looking for the hidden cameras in our flats. (A note on friends: Ever since I returned from the break, I’ve been hanging out with some cool friends on a consistent basis. We have dinner together almost every night and discuss and over-analyze everything that could possibly be interesting or controversial or exciting in our lives. It’s fantastic-we’re like a little family!) Anyway, we suspect we might be on a reality TV show because of all the drama that's been happening. With the wide variety of people in flats 42 (my real flat) and 47 (my adopted flat), we fit the profile for a reality show. Up in 47, there’s an adventurous American guy, a creepy Kiwi who smokes Cuban cigars (the cigars aren’t what makes him creepy), a Kiwi lacking social skills, a Jewish American girl, a Christian Kiwi girl, and a stereotypically bubbly American girl. Here in 42, well, the personalities aren’t as big, but the messes are certainly bigger.


Over the past week, I’ve been a witness to too much drama: boy drama (in two very different ways), family drama, class drama, and flat drama. About the boy drama, Tori’s been semi-panicking because of difficulties communicating by text (the primary mode of communication here) with Volker, her special friend who happens to be from Germany. We’ve certainly analyzed every aspect of the past week of their relationship, but I don’t think we’ve come to any conclusions yet. I’ll have to wait until tonight to get the latest update. Moana, my genuine Kiwi friend, has decided to move out of 47 because of the creepiness of Richard. I’ll leave it at that. But we’re going to relocate some of our dinners to her new flat. As for the family drama, Rachel’s parents and grandmother were in town last weekend for a visit. They took us out to a nice, but highly awkward, curry dinner. Apparently it was a lot of family packed into a little time.


The class drama relates to my religion class, again. Mike continues to put forth his views in a completely biased way. After his bashing last Friday of Christianity as highly idolatrous and pre-modern as well as his promotion of Lloyd Geering, a controversial figure of “modern Christianity”, as a Christian and an astute critic of traditional Christianity, I don’t even want to go to the class anymore. Geering doesn't believe in the physical resurrection of Jesus Christ, nor does he think the soul human soul immortal. Yet, Geering calls himself a Christian and still preaches in Auckland. Mike holds up Geering as an example of how Christianity should adapt to the modern world and ignores the fact that Geering denies two of the foundational beliefs of Christianity.


And, the flat drama. Yesterday, I awoke to find three mysterious and dodgy (sketchy) male randoms sleeping in the common room. The extent to which they were clothed was unclear. I later discovered they were friends of Jon. This morning I found them again, still asleep, as I tried to make my way safely through the room without falling over relocated couches or heaps of empty beer bottles in the dark. Meanwhile, Jon had been occupying the washer and dryer for over 24 hours. Needless to say, he is not on my list of favorite people at the moment.


In other news, I’m back into bike volunteering, and I did the Globe (a route, named for the Globe Cafe) by myself this morning. I got a bit lost, missed a cafe or two, and even asked one for food that isn't on our list. (Sidenote: out of the 10-15 people who participate in the volunteering, four are Americans . . . kind of funny, I thought. And yet they still don't like us.) When I headed out at 7:00am this morning, the sun hadn’t come up, and I was excited that I’d get to see the sunrise. Alas, I was too busy focusing on not getting lost and avoiding getting hit by cars to notice. (The hours of daylight are decreasing rapidly now – with sunrise around 7:30am and the sun beginning to set around 5:00pm.) But I succeed at least in avoiding other moving vehicles.


This weekend, I’m headed to Kaikoura, a small coastal town about two hours north of Christchurch, with the Butler group. We’re going mountain-biking, hot-pool dipping, and whale-watching (it’s the best spot in New Zealand for that) and staying at a marae (a Maori meeting house).


I’ll leave you with a quote from the waiver: “Although all outdoor physical activities in New Zealand can be considered dangerous . . .”


P.S. Don’t worry! If I can navigate the city centre streets of Christchurch on a bike, I can certainly mountain-bike! Without the challenge of the left side and roundabouts, it won’t be a problem at all!

Thursday, May 3, 2007

switchboards and biscuits

I’m quite fond of tea these days. And biscuits. But the best part of tea and biscuits, is, of course, dipping the biscuit in the tea. Ahh, biscuits and tea . . .one of the highlights of life on this strange little island.


I’m getting settled back in to life at fake home, trying to readjust to life as a “student.” After tomorrow, I have lectures for a mere five weeks more, and I return to real home exactly two months from today (US time). With the end still seemingly far away, I’m trying to enjoy the fun parts of Christchurch . . . like tea, my adopted flat, biking everywhere, mini tramps, and lovely autumn trees. (It’s clearly autumn here now, and all the trees are turning stunning shades of reds and oranges. Sadly, though, the temperatures are dropping. I can’t say exactly how much, because I have yet to master Celsius. But it’s seriously chilly. Seriously.)


It's good to be back in Flat 42, despite the chaos. I rather like my bed, my room, a (relatively) big kitchen, stable water temperature, and not living out of a pack. I'm glad I didn't decide to go with my friends over the break-they were tramping and camping for the better part of the three weeks, which is not my cup of tea, so to speak.


On the other hand, I’m a bit tired of my lectures, my lecturers, my flatmates, constant adventure, instant coffee, and standing out in pink amid a sea of black. (According to my Latin lecturer, New Zealanders wear the most black in the world, second only to Sicily, home of World War II widows who are still wearing black in mourning. I think she was just joking, but they do wear a lot of black. At least it seems that way to me, but of course, when I do laundry, I do a pink load.) Mike, the lecturer of the earlier controversy, continues to make sweeping claims that I find offensive. He speaks with a kind of intellectual arrogance that’s insulting to religion. I might stop by during his office hours sometime soon to try to have a real discussion.


In other news, my adoptee flatmates are ordering flat t-shirts with their nicknames on the backs. I get to be number seven, and my name is “SWITCHBOARD.”



Sweet as! (The photo is of the sign I made for the switchboard. It's bascially my name tag for my mini door. The rest of the flatties have nametags for their real doors.)


I discovered something truly shocking last night: Some of my friends do not know what real biscuits are. Biscuits in the American sense of the word, that is. They thought they were similar to scones, or dinner rolls. Crisis! I’m going to rectify this predicament soon by making them all a true Southern breakfast, complete with grits and eggs. (Beth, you would be proud.) And I had no idea biscuits were a “Southern thing”!!


P.S. Courtesy of Dad, and in the spirit of sheep: http://news.ninemsn.com.au/article.aspx?id=263297

Sunday, April 29, 2007



Pictures are up! Click the link to see them all (there are 4 albums). I suppose it was time to come back to my fake home, seeing as I'd completely filled up two memory cards for my camera!

Thursday, April 26, 2007

Road Trip: SM3!

That's Sydney to Melbourne, and in 3 days! On Monday morning, very early, I left my hostel (thankfully!) to wait for the OzExperience bus on a nearby corner. Soon, the bus pulled around the corner, and the driver yelled out the window, "Hellooo, Annie!" I met Luke, a Steve Irwinesque tour guide, and hopped on the bus. I was the first one on, so Luke and I had a little chat on our way to pick up the others. I quickly learned that it was going to be a small tour - only three other travelers! To my surprise, we ended up getting along well, and the trip wasn't awkward at all. We first picked up Jess, a 19 year-old English girl who is traveling around Australia for several months and is determined to wear her bikini all the time, just because she's in Oz. Then, we met Martin, a recent university graduate from Holland, and Sukenya, an English IT worker taking a break from her career to travel.

We left Sydney, heading south to Canberra, the capital city of Australia. With a population of 340,000, it's an unlikely city to have the honour of serving as it's nation's capital. Well, there's a funny story: Back in the early 1900's, Sydney thought it should be the capital. But, Melbourne did, too. And the rest of Australia couldn't agree. So, they decided to make a new city for their capital, in a deserted place called Canberra between the two cities. As a result, Canberra seems empty, looks sterile, and isn't really worth visiting, with the exception of Parliament, that is.

Luke gave us his own tour of the Parliament building, complete with commentary on the current political situation here. The Australian crest, with the kangaroo and emu, were all over the building. Those two animals form the crest because . . . they can't walk backward! In other words, they represent a forward-moving Australia! We also learned that Canberra has some different laws from the rest of the country. Consequently, according to Luke, because marijuana, porn, and firecrackers are legal, the people there "smoke pot, watch porn, blow things up, and then go make decisions that affect the whole country!"

After spending a couple hours in Canberra, we headed on to Jindabyne, a small ski town, for the night. The four of us stayed together in the motel, and the room was delightful compared to my previous hostel! The next morning, we rose early to head up to Mt. Kosiusko National Park for a "walk." It was rather chilly up in the mountains, and I wasn't too keen to do the planned walk. Unfortunately for my legs, lungs, and extremities, we all set off on the hilly 10km return hike because Martin wanted to go. Eventually, the girls and I managed to get the bus key from Luke, and we headed back to the warm bus a little before the end.

That night, after much more driving along windy, rail-less, dirt roads, we arrived at our destination, Lakes Entrance, which is near 90-mile beach. Along the road, Luke waved to everyone he passed, even cows. I'm not sure if he did this because of inner enthusiasm or if drivers in remote areas wave to each other to ward off the loneliness of long drives. We stopped often, ostensibly to use the loo, but, also for Luke to take a smoke break! It was fine with me though, as loo stops provided a break from the roads, in addition to the loo.

Yesterday, we rose before the sun to get an early start. And to do martial arts on 90-mile beach with Luke. At least it woke us up . . . We headed on to Wilson's Promontory National Park, a huge isthmus off the southern coast of the continent. There, we did another little "walk" and had a picnic on a overlook. My favorite part, however, came after the walk when we walked around a plain in the park to search for native wildlife. We saw several wombats, some emus, and heaps of kangaroos!! I think kangaroos have superceded sheep as my current favorite animal. I fear a large stuffed animal kangaroo may be coming back home with me . . .

We pulled into Melbourne last night, and I was absolutely worn out, but ready for some city life. I switched hostels at Luke's advice; I'd made a reservation in St. Kilda, the part of town where ladies of the night are too abundant for my taste. While in Sydney, I stayed in King's Cross, a neighboorhood I preferred to avoid after dark. So, I was grateful for Luke's suggestion because I certainly didn't want that experience again. I'm staying in a huge hostel called 'Nomads Industry,' which lives up to its name - it is definitely an industry for nomads! I'm getting a little irritated with the whole hostel scene-especially with roommates who turn on lights in the early morning and with towels that smell like dirty feet. I have learned some tricks about hostel-staying though: Buy milk with a screw-on top. Fold-in tops result in spilled milk.

Today, I explored "Melbourne-town, the world's best town," according to Luke. I took a free tram around the City Centre to Federation Square, a big open area near the Yarra River, which runs through the center of town. I checked out the NGV (National Gallery of Victoria), and I found the Indigenous Art collection absolutely amazing. After that, walked up to the Melbourne Gaol, the oldest Gaol in all of Victoria. It was a bit spooky, and the tales of executed criminals made me cringe. I looked at as much as I could stomach, but I really wondered why I had thought the place sounded cool at all. After riding the tourist shuttle - also free - around some of the suburbs, I ended up back in Federation Square, where I went to St. Paul's Anglican Cathedral for an evensong service. It's one of the few places outside the U.K. where there actually are Anglican evensong services, so I felt lucky to have found the place!

Tomorrow, I'm headed to Phillip Island to see a parade of tiny penguins, and on Saturday I'm flying back to Christchurch. I've enjoyed Aussieland, where they really do say, "G'day, Mate!" and "no worries," instead of "you're welcome." They speak more slowly, and in a more chill way than do Kiwis, and I'm going to miss that. I'm also going to miss kangaroos and koalas - but I guess sheep in huge quantities are cool, too.

Saturday, April 21, 2007

Visas, Crosswords, Kangaroos, and other aspects of Ozzie!

On Wednesday morning at approximately 5:55am (remember my plane was leaving at 6:40am), at the AirNZ check-in, I learned that Australia requires visitors to have a visa to enter the country. What an interesting and useful piece of information that would have been a week, or even a day, before. I was able to purchase a visa at the customer service desk, but, unfortunately, the man working there typed in my passport number incorrectly, which did not exactly help the process. After several minutes of waiting and a near panic attack, my visa cleared, and I was able to make the flight after an AirNZ worker rushed me through the departure tax counter (who knew you had to pay $25 to leave the country?) and security, where an official-looking man examined my bag because of my empty water bottle.

Thankfully, I made the flight, and the last twenty or so minutes of it almost made up for the pre-departure almost-disaster. I'd been doing crosswords for about three or so hours, but then decided to check out my travel book and plan my day. The man sitting on my row asked me if I was visiting, and we had a pleasant conversation for the remainder of the flight. I learned that Neal was headed to Sydney for business and that he works for Shell. After he told me he was from Wales (his accent was a bit thick, I will admit; but smiling and nodding worked just fine) and had spent a year in Africa traveling and doing volunteer work, I was intrigued. Then, he complimented my crossword skills!! And, sadly, he then threw in a gilfriend reference.

After arriving in Sydney and checking in at my hostel, I headed to the zoo with all the other tourists and probably half the schoolchildren of Sydney. I took a ferry across Sydney Harbour to get to the zoo, and I made sure to get my cliche picture in front of the Opera House! The Zoo was fun, and it was especially cool to see the koalas and red pandas. But I headed back to King's Cross, where my hostel is located, after a short time because I was so exhausted from getting up early for the flight. So much for my plan of not wasting any time!

Yesterday, I saw kangaroos in the wild! When European explorers landed in Ozzie in the late 1700's, they asked the native Aboriginal people the name of what is now the kangaroo. The Aboriginals responded, "Kangaroo," which means "I don't know." And the name stuck. The miscommunication reminds me of how the Maori people got their name. According to legend, a European asked a native who he was, and he said, "Maori," which means "ordinary bloke." So, really, Maori just means "ordinary person."

Anyway, the kangaroo sighting happened during my tour of the Blue Mountains, a mountain range the size of Holland just an hour and a half outside of Sydney. I took a group tour of the area with OzExperience, the same company I'm taking on my bus tour to Melbourne on Monday. After seeing the kangaroos up close and learning all about them (a female can carry three baby roos at different ages all at once!), we moved on to explore the mountains up close. It was an interesting group, with people of different ages and ethnicities, though most of them were from Europe. (Tons of Europeans spend months or even a year on what they call a "working holiday" - and lots come to Australia to travel.) I had some awkward and somewhat forced conversations with some of the other passengers, but the tour guide was enthusiastic enough to make up for the lack of friendliness of the other tourists. She drew Aboriginal
designs on our faces (I'll put up pictures soon), and wasn't afraid to demonstrate how the Aboriginal people stuck rolled Eucalpytus leaves us their noses for medicinal purposes.

Today, I explored some of the cultural (and free) parts of Sydney with Claire, an English girl from my hostel. We took a tour of the Botanical Gardens and the Government House, which the governor of New South Wales (a woman, by the way) still uses for meetings and other events. We also explored the Art Gallery of NSW, which was a bit disappointing. But, it did serve fantastic flat whites (a coffee) so it wasn't a total waste of time! It was also very pleasant to have a traveling companion, if only for a day.

Now I'm headed back to my hostel to relax with other travelers. I'm staying in an eight-bed female dorm room that is an adventure just in itself. The other girls there are from Switzerland, Denmark, and England, and they're traveling around Ozzie for various lengths of time. Sleeping has been a bit of a challenge, partly because of the constant movement around the room and partly because of the slantedness of my bed. The toilets are scarce, and old, and the shower water is either burning hot or freezing cold. The company and conversations are fun, though, and learning about anything from the different words for "toilet"(their word for bathroom; includes, sink, shower, and actual toilet) to the differences in educational systems in various countries makes the experience worthwhile. I'm glad I'm only spending two more nights there because the hecticness of it all is quite overwhelming. I'm excited to head for Melbourne, but I am also looking forward to returning to Christchurch and Flat 42, which seems calm in comparison.

Tuesday, April 17, 2007

Windy in Welly

I set off from my hostel this morning wearing sneads, ready to explore the windy city of Wellington. I arrived yesterday, after a five and a half hour train ride up the east coast and a three and half hour ferry ride across Cook Strait. It has been quite an exhausting two days!

I left for the train at 6am, worried about getting to the Christchurch Railway Station in time for my 7am train. Well, I was the first one there. No worries, though, I ended up with an excellent seat for viewing the scenery along the way--a forward-facing window seat. The conductor provided some history and random information about some of places we passed through, including info about the construction of a nearby bridge for the train. He calmly explained the reason for the new bridge: People were concerned about the train falling off the track on the current bridge. How reassuring . . .

After arriving in Picton (the top of the South Island), I made my way to the Ferry port. There, I boarded and tried to find a satisfactory seat - far away from screaming children but close to a window. The ride was windy and tipsy, and at points I felt dizzy trying to read. After three or so hours, we pulled in Wellington Harbour, and I happened to see a girl I'd met in my hostel in Wanaka! We caught each other up on our adventures since our meeting last Wednesday. She's from Norway and is studying architecture in Welly, so she was able to give me some helpful hints about the city.

At my hostel, base backpackers, I found found my bunk in the "sanctuary," the girls' only floor of the building, and unpacked a bit. While the room isn't quite a sanctuary, it is quite nice for a hostel and I feel safe on the floor, far away from male randoms. (Kiwis call strangers "randoms.")

This morning, I hopped on a bus to go to the Katherine Mansfield Birthplace, which is just out of the city centre. The bus system, or driver, proved difficult. I didn't know how much to pay, and he didn't know how much to charge me when I told him I was going to the K.M. house because he didn't know what it was. Sadness! He ended up treating me as if I were an idiot, and I became that stupid tourist who holds up the whole bus because of cluelessness. Anyhow, I got there eventually, and it was superb! I arrived just in time for the 10am opening, so I had the place to myself for a few minutes. I haven't read much of Mansfield's work, but I can tell by the quotes from her letters and journals around the house that I'm going to be a fan!

For example . . . "Risk! Risk anything! Care no more for the opinions of others, for those voices. Do the hardest thing on earth for you. Act for yourself. Face the truth."

Then, I made my way down to the Beehive (http://www.beehive.govt.nz/index.aspx) and the other government buildings. I took a fascinating tour there, where I learned about the eccentricities of the NZ goverment.

Some fun facts from the tour:

1. NZ was the first country to grant women suffrage (1893). And, currently about a third of the members of parliament are women. (There is also one Rastafarian, whatever that is, who has dreadlocks down to his ankles.)

2. NZ has the most direct personal democracy in the world. (Before bills become Acts, they are advertised for the public. Anyone who wants to comment can request an oral hearing before a committee, and they are actually heard! And, they have complete freedom of speech - meaning that they can't be punished or mocked for what they say. A nice example of NZ egalitarianism!)

3. The daily papers from all the major (a relative term) newspapers in the country are stored every day in the basement of the Parliamentary Library. According to the tour guide, it's so "politicians can remember what they said yesterday!"

4. After elections, the voting sheets come to the parliament where they are stored for a while. Then, they become insulation!

I enjoyed the whole tour, but my favourite part was when the tour guide decided that I should stand in the place where the Queen's throne sits when she visits!! He asked me my name, and since there was already a Queen Anne, he said I could be Queen Anne II - and that I should sign my name A II R for the rest of the day!

Tomorrow morning, very early (6:40am), I fly to Sydney! I think I may have been a bit too ambitious about not wasting time when I planned this trip. Alas, I must quit writing and get on with things so I can sleep!