“If you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything at all.”

I would never admit to being a “southern belle,” and rarely will I call myself a “true southerner,” but, here I find myself embracing my “southernity”—if I can call it that—in reaction to kiwi culture. While not all New Zealanders thrive on vulgarity, many do appreciate crass humor, cruel jokes, and blunt statements about things I consider to be best left unsaid. Perhaps I took one of Mom’s rules too literally: “If you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything at all.” I think my favorite example of the rough language of kiwis happened on my way back to my flat a couple weeks ago. I heard, while walking by a school playground, one boy shout to another, “Kick the s*** out of the ball!” Back in Atlanta, that remark might warrant a certain child’s mouth being washed out with soap. I am quickly realizing how much I appreciate southern manners!

I also miss the friendliness of the South, where people greet each other with, at the very least, a “hi,” and often with a, “how are you?” There is no customary greeting here; in fact, there’s no greeting at all—and certainly no eye contact. In lectures, I’m continually shocked when students interrupt lecturers or call them by their first names. From what I’ve learned, New Zealand’s egalitarianism (at least in theory) erases all social boundaries: There are no authority figures outside of parents and the government, so students and lecturers are effectively on the same level. It’s not uncommon in a lecture to have one student interject, “shut up!” and another shout, “Mike!” (Mike is the lecturer) Going along with the egalitarian theme of the country, people often ignore gender, seeing its potential for controversy. Consequently, there is a complete absence of door-opening gentlemen in this country! Anyhow, after hearing ‘naughty’ words on a regular basis, and listening to rude jokes frequently, and trying not to smile at people I see, I am identifying more than ever before with my “southernity”— minus the “belle.”

Back in Flat 42, mild chaos continues. Flatmate Mike returned two days ago with a Mohawk. To commemorate his new do, he has created an album on facebook chronicling every stage of the cut . . . Just try and imagine spiked ginger (red; pronounced “ginga”) hair. Flatmate Jon has yet to learn that cleaning up after himself in the kitchen involves not only washing his dishes but wiping the counters as well. German Maria is disappointed that she has “to learn,” as she calls it. (see previous comments about the German University system) Sometimes I’ll see her around the flat, and she complains that classes are sooo boring and she’s frustrated that she can’t enjoy the scenery of New Zealand but instead has to go to her room “to learn.” Also, twice this week I have been a victim of thin walls. Concrete is most definitely not sound-proof. I’ll say no more on that subject!

Yesterday, I attempted to turn in an essay, but I failed. Failed to turn it in, that is. After loading money to my Canterbury Card, logging on to a public computer, and printing my essay, I discovered, upon talking to my lecturer, that I cannot actually give my essay to him. That would be too easy. Instead, I have to locate the Religion Department essay box, fill out a form, and deposit my essay with the attached form into the box. Because I hadn’t stapled my paper (a consequence of having no stapler), and because I had to move on to my next lecture, I couldn’t turn in my essay. No worries, though, it’s just an article critique and I can turn it in whenever I want to. I chose an article from the course reader (see photo on new album) about how New Zealanders’ cultural attitudes create a hostile environment for artists, poets, and writers. I found it fascinating, seeing as how I am writing quite a bit these days. Anyway, tomorrow I will persevere and turn in that essay!

In other news, the toilet button(s) remain a source of confusion. Summer is officially over—it ended Saturday. The time changed; we “fell back.” Now, the East Coast of the States is 16 hours behind New Zealand. When I went to the cinema last night (yes, on a Tuesday!), I learned that seats are assigned based on the time of purchase. This custom shows the kiwi tendency toward order and fairness, yet it forces people to sit in close proximity to each other, which is something NZers are not keen on. What a contradiction . . . and a classic example of how New Zealand works! Oh, I almost forgot—the theatre is licensed! So, not only can kiwis be assured of a good seat, albeit near to others, if they arrive early, they can enjoy their movie with a beer, or any type of drink, actually!

I have added new pictures to go with the previous post's 'daily life' theme. Click this picture to see the whole album!

Well, it’s sadly time for me “to learn.” I have a study buddy in my Latin class whom I must not disappoint tomorrow!