Greetings from Auckland

So...Auckland.

Big. Sprawling. Culturally diverse. Warmer than Wellington. Rolling waves of suburbia. Surrounded by teal water and walkable-in-your-bare-feet beaches. Home of the Sky Tower and the All Blacks. Also goes by the friendly monicker of "The City of Sails." Population: 1,158,891. Number of cars: roughly 660,000. And now officially the home of Peter and Roni.

Fact: Aucklanders spend, on average, more money on transportation than food. That'll give you an idea of the car culture around here. Yes, it's as bad as Kiwis say, but I don't think it's any worse than driving during rush hour in any major US city. Needless to say, things are spread out enough that we bought a car on our first full day here. She's small and a bit older, but she's in good shape.

Our furniture and other belongings arrived in good condition a few days after we got to town, and we are now officially mostly unpacked. We still need a few pieces of furniture to really get the place up and running (bookcases and such) but we really like the new place. Let's take a little tour, shall we? A big welcome from Peter...





As you can see from the pictures it's nice and sunny, with good Rata wood floors and plenty of trees and flowers to lend shade. I'll get more pictures of the wonderful flowers hanging out around back. It has a shaded yard for barbecuing and friendly neighbours all around of the human, cat, dog and unidentified caged bird varieties. We even have a lemon tree in the back yard. We're told that it will produce lemons if we water it enough, so we're on the ball with that already. I can't wait to be able to say, "Hon, we're out of lemonade. Would you mind popping out to the tree for me?" I doubt it will produce that much, but still, a lemon tree!

We're also about a 15 minute walk from one particularly nice swimming beach. That will definitely come in handy once the weather gets even warmer.

Well great, you might say, Auckland seems pretty nice. You have an apartment you like, you have a month off before you have to go to work, you have swell neighbours. Are there any down sides? Well, as I mentioned earlier, the city lay out is generally sprawling and there is a huge number of cars on the road. Traffic is truly horrendous. The roads here seem to be full to overflowing with single occupant vehicles. And though there are marked bike lanes in a lot of areas, the condition of the roads and paths is such that, as Peter found out today, you can easily take a nasty fall if you don't go pretty darn slow. There are obstacles everywhere, gaping holes in the pavement, rain gutters that run parallel to the roadway and are just big enough to suck your front tire 3 inches down into a sewer drain. In order to get a really good hike or bike ride you basically have to drive someplace. This is far from bad, considering that most of the places we can go to are within a 30-45 min drive, but somehow that seems inconvenient after living in a place like Missoula. To all of you Missoulians (well, Montanans) out there, consider yourselves lucky that nature is literally right at your back door.

Speaking of thing outside back doors, we have something outside ours that we're fairly certain no Montanan has. We have a feral hedgehog. And not the small pet store variety, I'm talking BIG hedgehog. We put some particularly stinky trash out on the back stoop our third night here and later we heard the signature rustling of a garbage snatcher. Having grown up in an area where racoons regularly scatter the contents of a garbage can around an area the size of a baseball diamond within 5 minutes, I ran to the back door with broom in hand. When I opened the door a rather large and un-perturbed looking hedgehog was munching away on our refuse. It kept its nose down and gave me a sidelong glance, as though to get a good, long look at that annoying thing making all the noise. We poked it gently with the broom handle to get it out of our trash, and eventually it waddled away. We almost had the camera out to document the new neighbour but we were too late. Supposedly hedgehogs like to eat dairy products and fruit, so we're going to bait it in order to get a picture of him. Dumpster diver or no, he is a cute little bugger.

Peter thinks we should name him Sonic. I vote for The Hauraki Homebreaker, after the name of the gulf that separates North Shore City from central Auckland. What do you think, gentle reader? The floor is now officially open for all suggestions original and plagiarized. After all, what is a mascot (a status I think he deserves) without a name? A lousy one, that what.

It's evening here and we're closing up for the night. Bugs are much bigger and thicker here, so it's time to close up and snuggle under a comfy quilt with a book (thanks again, Mom, it looks and feels oh so wonderful!). We'll leave you with a picture of the Harbour Bridge and the Sky Tower as seen from the end of our street at dusk. Both are Auckland icons. The trees covered with red blossoms are Pohutukawa trees, commonly called New Zealand Christmas Trees because they bloom in December. They smell wonderful and have red, whisker like petals tipped in yellow pollen. The city is now bathed in pinkish flakes of a New Zealand Christmas.

Happy Halloween!

On a lighter note than the last post...Happy Halloween! I have to admit, I miss the general revelry a bit more than I thought I would. Even though we didn't do anything more last year than carve jack-o'-lanterns and buy candy that no one came for because is was too cold, at least we got to see kids get excited about institutionalised make-believe. I like the fact that in America that kind of imaginative revelry is possible and even encouraged for one night of the year, even if my adult life doesn't always make the time for it.

Halloween isn't celebrated nearly as much here as it is in the States, but I get the feeling that it's starting to catch on. There are a few stores that have advertised costumes and candy, and there are a few stoops in the neighbourhood with carved pumpkins on them (not the big orange kind but the smaller peach-coloured kind you get for cooking). I've even seen a few clubs downtown advertising parties, but they're pretty few and far between. All in all there's a distinct lack of orange here. I did see a black cat today, so I'm actually taking that as a good sign.

There's another holiday later this week that may be overshadowing this new-fangled Halloween stuff. It's called Guy Fawkes Day and it's causing all kinds of fire-cracker fun. Basically, this Fawkes fellow tried to blow up King James I and the rest of the House of Parliament in Britain. The original plan was to light off 32 barrels of gunpowder stashed in the basement of the House of Lords on 5 November 1605. This came to be known as the Gunpowder Plot of 1605, and was a planned act of violence by an angry group of Catholics against a Protestant government that didn't exactly have a good track record of treating Catholics with respect. Needless to say old Guy was caught on 5 November, tortured and summarily executed. Some argue that he was tipped off by a member of his group who feared for the lives of innocent civilians, but no one knows for sure. What we do know is that 5 November, or Guy Fawkes Day, is now either celebrated as the day a traitor was struck down or the anniversary of an attempt to do away with intolerant government. I suppose how you celebrate the day depends on your political persuasion. You can find out more about this interesting holiday at www.gunpowder-plot.org.

So far I get the impression that the holiday, in it's modern form in New Zealand, is an excuse to buy fireworks legally and blow them up at all hours of the day and night. Officials keep warning that if the sparkler bombs and random acts of arson don't stop they'll ban the sale of fireworks to private citizens. We'll have to see what comes of it when the holiday passes, but from the crime stats in the daily news it's not looking good for the Kiwi pyros out there. The holiday used to be celebrated with bonfires (the holiday is also known as Bonfire Day) and the burning of Guy Fawkes in effigy. The effigy-burning isn't as common anymore, but playing with fire is still the way to do it up right here. We're planning on getting our fix of explosives at a professional fireworks show over the harbour this weekend. Should be sweet as!

America: You are making us sad.

What is a blatantly political posting doing on this otherwise happy go lucky blog about a foolish twenty-something couple selling most of their stuff, packing up, and moving to New Zealand? It turns out that American politics are unavoidable even on the other side of the globe.

After the dozenth person asked Peter last week at work, "Hey, Peter, did you hear that the US just suspended habeas corpus?" you start to think that there might be something wrong.

Actually, we've been of the firm belief that something has been wrong for some time, however, things are clearly getting out of hand. The fact that the Bush administration now has the means and the motive (and one can assume the intent) to disappear U.S. citizens merely by having them declared "enemy combatants" is shocking and should never, ever happen in a country which professes to value liberty.

Let's not go on at length about this one here, but we're merely going to refer you to Keith Olbermann's eerily direct essay, ""Beginning of the end of America".

The second scary realisation came this weekend when we read about new provisions in the "John Warner Defense Authorization Act of 2007" that erode the previously rigourous controls on the president's ability to use the US military against US citizens living in the US. As this article points out, there is a technical definition for this: martial law.

Now, whether you believe that Bush intends to abuse this power or not, is immaterial. Maybe he won't. But do you trust the next president, or the president after that not to?

Even legal powers can be abused. In this sad, scary blog a college grad student is harassed by the FBI. His crime? He pointed out that certain airline security measures could be circumvented by someone with the computer skills of the average 12 year old or an above average chimp. Never mind that Bruce Schneier pointed it out in 2003, or that Senator Charles Schumer did in 2005. Fiction? We wish we could say it were. From Mr. Soghoian's blog:


I didn't sleep at home last night. It's fair to say I was rather shaken up.

I came back today, to find the glass on the front door smashed.

Inside, is a rather ransacked home, a search warrant taped to my kitchen table, a total absence of computers - and various other important things. I have no idea what time they actually performed the search, but the warrant was approved at 2AM. I'm sincerely glad I wasn't in bed when they raided the house. That would have been even more scary.


All this, and the security theatre last time we visited the US, has us wondering about the collective health of our nation of birth. The kiwis that we meet here are pretty uniform in their opinions. Most seem to like America and Americans very much. However, they are equally of the opinion that our government was fraudulently elected and is now running roughshod over it's own citizens and the rest of the world.

If this is all a bad dream, how do we pinch ourselves awake?

Roni & Peter

Blown away by Wellington

The other day at work, my british coworker stumbled in about 10 am, his usual arrival time. What was unusual was that he was looking even more dazed and confused than he generally does.

"Quite a wind out there."


"Yeah," I said, watching a plastic bag outside get scooped up and launched vertically 10 stories.

Almost at a mutter he continued, "I dropped my wife off today for a tennis match and I walked over to the office from there. I walked around the corner of a group of buildings and I must have caught the wind just right, but it took my glasses off."

"Wow! That is an impressive wind!" I said. "So, did they get scratched when they fell?"

"I don't know. The wind took them and flung them across four lanes of traffic. By the time I got over there, I couldn't find where they had gone."

I'm sure the story continued from there, but I think I had already begun to wonder what I'd look like with a glasses band or maybe one of those chains that little old ladies wear.

Not to sound like a whiner, but I counted the months of predominantly inclement weather we've had here in Wellington so far. May, June, July, August, September, and now October??? What the hell? I thought New Zealand is supposed to be warm and sunny?

To be fair, October has been reasonably warm. We've only had to run our electric heater a couple of times so far this month. I've asked people if it clears up much. "Aw, yeah, well October is really the beginning of the windy season, but heading into December summer is brilliant."

Great.

Meanwhile, up in Tauranga, our friend Tim is enjoying sailing and sunny weather. The lesson here? In the distance between Billings and Missoula, you can go from sunny skies and calm weather to gale force, antarctic wind.

So, where does that leave us? Extremely happy to be looking at heading further north. Roni just got offered a year-long position in the North Shore area of Auckland. My job has been a bit of a dissapointment, so I'm not really too sad at the prospect of having to find a new one.

They say, "Nothing beats Wellington on a good day." Problem is, there are shockingly few of those.

The Interesting Thing About Public Transit

Since arriving in Wellington, public transit has been my lifeline to work. We live on the opposite side of a 'mountain'- read 'hill' if you're from Montana-from the rest of the city, and the only way through when wearing professional attire is via bus. Most mornings, this takes me to the train station where I board a car for destinations on the northern end of the harbour. While it takes a little longer to get around than by car, I somehow don't feel like such a nameless face when I'm on a platform with many other nameless faces. A teacher at an area school made the point that commuting alone creates a sense of separateness, and even conditions us to pull away from people we don't know. I have to say that this is a fairly accurate and astute observation.

While I haven't made any friends per se on a train or bus, I've definitely met a number of characters that have become familiar faces. There's the ticket taker on a frequently taken train of mine who is there every morning, without fail, with a hearty "good morning, how are you today" and a smile (from under a huge red mustache). A small thing, yes, but a nice way to start the day. Then there are the two 20-something guys who always sit near each other, each reading parts of the same paper, buy each other coffees and get off the train together, but never speak a word to each other while actually ON the train. My favourite, though, is the young angry bus driver who works the afternoon shift in Porirua. He's not in the least self-conscious about flipping off fellow motorists, and he'll mutter the most foul obscenities under his breath when the middle school kids press the call button and then don't get off the bus. I always smile and thank him when I get off, and he always says "cheers" with a smile in return.

Even on the street at crosswalks and bus stops people will strike up small conversations with you about whatever happens to be going on. I've encountered this congeniality since the first day we got here, but this willingness to interact has never hit me as strongly as it did at the train station earlier this week.

I was at a coffee cart early one morning waiting for my cuppa. The woman in front of me had placed a rather large order and was frantically counting out coins to pay for it all. To our left sat a train waiting to pull away, and I noticed a conductor waving her arms in the direction of the coffee cart. I thought nothing of it, seeing as it wasn't my train (or it could have been that early morning I-really-need-some-coffee haze clouding my mind). A minute later another conductor came up to this woman in front of me and asked her if this nearest train was hers. When she said yes he told her that it was leaving right then. Her face froze, and you could tell that she was stuck having to choose between dashing for her train empty handed, or asking the barista to give her her money back. Instead of heading back for the train or telling the woman to hustle it up, the conductor took one look at her conflicted expression and politely asked the barista how long it would be until her drinks were done. The cart employees were just about done, so the conductor waited with this woman and even helped her carry her drinks back to the train. Another conductor was waiting nearby to pleasantly shoo them onto a car. The minute the car doors closed, the train took off.

I had to pause at this, dumbfounded by what I had just seen. The first thought through my mind was "well, that never would have happened in Germany". Then I thought, "wait a minute, where would that have happened other than here"? I had just witnessed a quintessentially kiwi encounter. It's this willingness to interact that makes New Zealand unique, a sort of every-day-diplomacy that keeps everyone moving along congenially. Things are rarely black and white, and from my perspective it seems like Kiwis grow up knowing that if you just talk about an issue a little bit all parties can usually get what they need. No need to fuss, shout or throw down ultimatums. One has no reason to pull away from others here; to do so would actually do more damage.

It's nice to know that kindness can happen at 7:15 am before you have your coffee.

Have you eaten your wallaby today?

When I came down here, I was expecting to get to eat some different foods. But not wallaby. I figured that 1. those cute little critters only lived in Australia and 2. they weren't a food commodity. And thanks to travel, my assumptions have been proved wrong yet again. There are a few of the little buggers on parts of the south island (transplanted there by humans), and they are obviously making their way into the food chain somehow. I don't know if they're farmed, or if they're hunted (much like possum is hunted because of it's ivasive and destructive nature).

This edible adventure happened a few weeks ago when Peter and I went out for pizza. We saw a special on the board for a wallaby pizza with nuts and orange relish. Thinking it couldn't taste that bad, we went for it. And we were right; wallabies are as tasty as they are cute. They taste like a good beef shank, and the orange relish made it wonderful sweet-savoury dish.

Watch out, wallabies, you're now on our culinary hit list.

Wintry Goings-On

Little more than a month ago, we were living in what seemed like limbo. No jobs, no permanent address, no mental energy to really take time to enjoy sightseeing (the worry that comes along with a job search is uniquely plaguing). Then, just like those warm and sunny winter days here, some goodness come out of nowhere all at once and without warning.

Within the course of about a week and a half, both Peter and I landed jobs and we found a decent apartment. Just like that. And we've been at a sprint ever since.

Peter's job is with the Ministry of Agriculture and Forestry in a security architecture capacity. And I found a relief (substitute) teaching pool that arranges work for relief teachers at all of the various schools in the Wellington area. There are so many of them that these pools are a pretty common and handy way for us relievers to get and maintain contacts.

Since I still had to wait for a bit of paperwork to get processed before I could start working, I took on the temporary job of getting our apartment into shape. You don't quite realise how much crap you have--and need, really--until you either move it, store it, sell it, or replace it all. In our case, until you have to sell it all then replace it. Oy.

Since we don't have a car, I've been making plenty of trips in to town on the bus and getting as much as I can carry back without knocking elderly women out of their seats. It probably would have been a lot easier had we a car, but then again it would have been a lot easier to spend more than was necessary had we a car to carry a bunch of crap in. At least this way we're more aware of the necessities and not tempted to get too many fun things. Although it has been pretty fun to outfit our kitchen with decent cookware and our living room with matching furniture. We even have room for a dining room table (as if the quasi-British accent didn't make us Yanks feel civilised enough).

So here we live, in our own flat not far from our last place in the Hataitai suburb, with work to occupy our days and errands to occupy our evenings and weekends. We're into a new routine, and, although it's keeping us busy, life is good.

Peter's work is interesting, as is mine, and we're starting to get a sense for what it's like to really live in New Zealand. You learn quite a bit about a culture from dealing with people on a professional level. We've learned that the morning tea ritual, a break at mid morning where people relax with a snack, is pretty common at work as well as for tourists. We've also learned that it's not uncommon for work places to go out on a Friday after work to have a staff drink at the pub. Social time seems to be pretty important here.

I'm also getting to learn a lot about the culture from the kids I meet in the schools. Children are culture sponges, and everything they do has been taught to them by through their parents, the movies they watch, and the values placed on them by society. They're turning out to be a curious mixture of Kiwi and American culture, and it's pretty apparent that all of the American media, music, and marketing that makes its way here has had a big impact. I've been told to keep an eye out for American spellings in English classroom here, as most kids type their projects in Microsoft Word, which has a default spell checker set to American spellings. Odd, eh? I guess that's one more incentive for me to quickly learn to spell, punctuate, and conjugate within the language system here. We've even met some Kiwis who actually know more about American history from watching shows like Deadwood than some Americans do after having gone through US schools. You have to hand it to the Kiwis; they're a pretty culturally savvy lot.

We'll be posting again soon about some of the fun things we've done and seen when the sun comes out here. The sun isn't a common visitor for us at the moment, but when she comes out the whole of Wellington scrambles outside. Unfortunately, the work-a-day world is just as boring here as it is in the states, so not much to record there as far as photos are concerned. Stay tuned, we'll be posting again soon!

Talking to Peter & Roni

Hey, all. This is a quick note to let you know that Roni and I are available via Skype pretty much all the time when we are home. Our joint username is 'schmiedeskiwis' and you should be able to reach us pretty much as reliably as via telephone.

For those of you who don't know about Skype, it is a piece of software that allows you to place internet telephone calls for free. The quality is generally on par or superior to telephone, especially if you have broadband. Quality is acceptable even if you only have dial-up Internet access. Please run (don't walk) to http://www.skype.com and download it.

When you call here, please remember the time difference. Also, we haven't (yet) figured out a good way of accurately setting our status, so it may show us online/idle/whatever regardless of where we actually are. Suffice it to say that, if you ring and we're home, we'll answer. It's a lot like a regular telephone that way :-)

We may eventually switch over to a different internet based phone service, but until that time, Skype works very well.

Happy Queen's Birthday!

Today New Zealand celebrates Queen Elizabeth II's birthday. Her birthday is actually 21 April, but New Zealand celebrates on the first Monday of June. The country enjoys a three day weekend, and there are a few ceremonies held here and there (though there was nothing special going on here in Wellington).

The nation-wide excitement that happens on the Queen's Birthday is the Queen's Birthday Honours list. This is a list that the Queen comes out with to acknowledge those New Zealand citizens who contribute to New Zealand's culture and society. You can see some of the recipients here: http://www.nzherald.co.nz/feature/story.cfm?c_id=513&objectid=10385054

As far as I can tell, most people use the weekend a lot like Americans use the President's Day weekend: make home improvements, take skiing trips, visit family, go shopping, etc. One of the main differences is that here, any business that chooses to stay open on a public holiday like this has to pay their employees holiday pay. This means that restaurants will tack a 15% surcharge to your meal (a very fair thing to do, I must say), and some stores and shops choose to close in order to avoid the added operational costs. So it's a crap shoot as to what's open and what isn't. We spent the day in classic kiwi style: we went shopping for furniture for the new apartment and went out for lunch. After all, it's our new patriotic duty. :)

The Weather Gods Must Be Crazy

Old Man Winter is the same bastard wherever you go. He has this knack for finding your comfort zone and then, with the fingertips of one hand lightly touching those on the other and a maniacal gleam in his eye, nudging the temperature and wind speed just beyond it. I normally consider myself tough when it comes to weather; anyone from Montana has to to avoid the mockery. But I feel that, because I grew up in Montana, I'm also tough enough to take the humiliation standing tall.

I, a country girl, am hiding from 45 degree weather.

It was bound to happen at some time. Like all Montanans who leave their native habitat, I knew that my body would go into shock from the warmth and humidity, unable to cope with hospitable conditions. I knew that eventually my blood would thin, I would gradually switch from wearing long sleeved T-shirts to wool sweaters, and that I would take to using an umbrella instead of just nestling into an ever-dampening jacket collar.

Perhaps it's because I had this image of New Zealand as a tropical paradise. I came here looking for lush, warm, sun drenched valleys safely hidden from the snowy mountains by a wall of silver ferns. Research told me that it can get quite cold in most of the country during the winter, but because I just left a Montana winter behind, my desires overshadowed common sense. I feel a lot like the Montanan in spring who pulls out the shorts just a few weeks too early; I'm stubbornly (and unsuccessfully) trying to force the weather to accommodate my pasty-fleshed desires. I think I'm going to put away the tank tops and go shopping for a few of those comfy looking New Zealand wool cardigans.

That being said, we've been getting a healthy amount sunshine. When those days roll around we hop on the bus and head out for a walk in a new-to-us part of town. We've mostly been exploring the suburbs, as we've been apartment hunting, but on occasion we venture into the more natural parts of the city.

Not too long ago we heard that a seal colony comes to shore every winter near Island Bay, a southern suburb of Wellington. Deciding that while it was breezy and grey, it wasn't all that cold. So off we went to find some seals. Island Bay is named after it's main island feature, Tapu Te Ranga, which served as a refuge for the Ngati Ira Maori tribe when they were under attack. It protects the bay from the harsh Cook Straight weather, and is rather nice to look at, too. The shoreline in this area is fairly rocky, and the tide pools collect surprisingly little plant life. Here's one of the more occupied pools we found.

While we didn't see any seals or blue penguins (who also come to shore here), we did get to watch a number of birds playing in the updrafts generated near the cliffs. With the weather getting colder by the minute, we headed back to our flat for the day. These sunny periods just don't last long enough for me.

Lucky us!

Just another quick note to let everyone know that we got our passports back from London complete with immigration stamps and everything! We would have let you know sooner but we were distracted by "Lucky John" a street performer with a heart of gold. (Yes, that's a six-inch nail in his nose.)

Mr. Rodgers, Eat Your Heart Out

This morning turned out to be exactly the opposite of what we planned.

We had set the alarm for 'early', 6 a.m., so we could get out for an early breakfast and get some work done at cafe with broadband access. So what do we do when our alarm diligently reminds us of our ambition? Like red-blooded Americans, we turned off the alarm and slept for another two hours. So much for self-guided ambition.

But, determination has a handy way of turning into simmering coals of guilt, and we decided not to write the day off. It was sunny, a first in at least three days, and looked like a great day to explore the city. On our way out we stopped at our newest coffee hangout here in Hataitai, Salvation Coffee, for a bite. We started chatting with the owner, and he was able to offer us some insight on the rental situation in this neighbourhood. A couple at the next table had some more information on the rental market, and before we knew it we had been chatting for nearly two hours.

These types of incidents aren't uncommon here. We're finding that people are ready to lend a hand if they feel it will be helpful, and typically introduce themselves to strangers more than is normal in America. As in the case of this morning, we've been able to get some good info on how things work here. The people we met today were able to give us some great insight on the rental market, tips as to where to find good cycles, and they offered us a different perspective on the war in Iraq. I was even able to make a professional contact by the end of the conversation (one of the chaps we talked to has a friend who teaches high school English and offered to pass my contact info along to her).

Not exactly how we planned to spend our morning, but it wasn't exactly bad way to spend the morning, either.

I guess the moral of the story would be this: don't be afraid to offer what you can to those who look like they could use it. While we've all grown up with the advice "don't talk to strangers" ringing in our ears, perhaps closing off those lines of communication is what keeps us from becoming anything other than strangers. I've come to the conclusion that this shrinking global community of ours needs bigger neighbourhoods.

Trying on a New Routine For Size. Mmmm...Roomy.

Truth in Life #1: Adventure is the spice of life.
Roni's Truth in Life #2: Living out of a suitcase stinks.

So how to reconcile the two? Funky dresser shopping! We'll need an apartment to keep said dresser in, though, and that means choosing a neighbourhood, which will in turn depend on where we find work.

Sigh...I suppose this logic dictates we finally let go of the vacation portion of our trip and get down to business. So we've been filling out applications, getting details squared away, and going to job interviews this week. While no one really wants to let go of that sweet goddess called holiday, work and a routine puts vacation time in perspective.

Having a routine has helped us immensely in our reluctant retreat back to normal life. We've taken inspiration from our moms and set a bed time and rising time for ourselves. We're also cooking meals in our flat quite a bit, although popping down the street for a little taste of Hell is always a temptation. (For those of you unfamiliar with NZ's culinary scene, Hell is a pizza chain that has all kinds of sinfully delicious pies. In this picture we're enjoying a taste of Wrath.) Funny, it isn't as hot there as I've been led to believe...must be the humidity down here.

During the day we get down to business, and we reserve the evenings for relaxation. We're even developing a social circle through the Aikido class we're taking three days a week. This has been the best lifestyle choice we've made here so far. This dojo practices the same style of Aikido that I trained in in the Missoula, with the expected stylistic differences of the sensei, of course. My body's felt right at home on the mat so far, and the people we train with are such a friendly and energetic lot that we feel very welcome. I'm quickly understanding the comforts of physical exercise (read: getting thrown around).

Here's a picture of Hataitai, the neighbourhood we're staying in. We're able to see Evans Bay, a bay in Wellington Harbor, and the waters of the Pacific from just up the street. It's a quiet little area with a great community feel to it. And it's only a 10 minute bus ride into the CBD, which has been very handy since we don't have a car yet.

Our first trip back to the US

Being in a foreign country has its difficult moments. For example, just the other day I said to Roni, "Hey, we should stop by the American embassy to see if it's 'bad' to be out of the country and for our passports to be in London without us." Why do our passports get to travel to sunny London without us, you ask? Well, it has to do with our residency visas. Apparently, if you come from the US, as skilled migrants to NZ, you get your residency visa processed in London. Perfectly comprehensible. Why should I be able to get a residency visa in the capital of one country when I can just as easily pay an expensive courier to expedite our passports to another?

So, we decided to take a trip back to US soil to find some answers about passport partedness. One 10 minute bus ride and a few blocks of walking later, we found ourselves separated by only a tall, grey, iron security fence and a concrete guard station from Old Glory (bless it) waving in the gentle breeze.

We talked to the security guard standing behind thick glass via an intercom, "Hi, um, we're American... citizens. We have a question about our passports." The security guard smiled and responded in a friendly kiwi accent, "Sorry, all passport services are administered by the consulate in Auckland." Hmm... It looked like we might not be taking a trip to American soil after all. "Okay, well, we really just have a question. We don't really need passports or anything, we just want to know if it's okay for us to send our passports to London for NZ visa processing..." He smiled again and explained that this US embassy was only for diplomatic relations and that there really weren't any citizen services at this location. "Hey, but if you want to pop inside for a second I can give you the contact information for the consulate in Auckland."

We went around the side door and he buzzed us in. Inside was a metal detector and a sign saying that any mobile phones, cameras, or other electronics were not allowed through. Otherwise, it was just a plain, grey, bare concrete building. He gave us a slip of paper with the U.S. Consulate General's telephone, fax, e-mail, web site (http://homepages.ihug.co.nz/~amcongen No, really.), and street address. As he turned away I asked, "Are we, um, technically, you know, on U.S. soil?" He gave a big grin and said once again in his best kiwi accent, "Yes. You're safe in here." I laughed. I said that I hadn't felt particularly threatened so far in NZ. He laughed louder.

We left, walked past the protesters camping in front of the embassy, our mission accomplished... mostly.

It's now Monday morning, and we gave the consulate in Auckland a call. "Well, if you need to take an emergency trip back to the States, you won't be able to do so without your passports. Other than that, there isn't really a problem. Just be sure to make copies of your passports."

For those of you feeling cheated for having just read this dull account of our passport details, I have a special treat for you. Just as I was talking to the consulate, what I'm pretty sure was a pirate ship sailed past, just barely visible from our flat. I hastily took a picture and cropped it for your enjoyment. (Sorry that it's pixelated. It was really far away.) Roni would like to point out that, while pirates can be salty, they may, in fact, be less salty than Marmite. You be the judge.

Adventures in Grocery Shopping

We walked into a neighbourhood grocery store, on a quest for a taste of home. Since we're staying in a place with a kitchen, we decided to make ourselves at home in kiwi culture by making one of our favourite dishes from the states: chicken soup with tofu and leeks. We were sure that we'd be able to find all of the necessary ingredients, and we were really craving a taste of home.

The first steps into any grocery inevitably lead you through the produce department. In a foreign country this is roughly like falling through the rabbit hole: things are familiar, but rearranged and slightly off kilter compared to our sense of normal. The colours look a little different, prices are based on kilograms instead of pounds, and foods that would cozily rest side by side in the States now lie a respectable distance from each other. We picked up the obligatory kiwis, much larger than we're used to seeing, along with some fiejoas (these are related to the guava family, but are green, tomato-like in texture, and taste unlike anything I've encountered to date). Far from disgusting, we picked up enough to snack on for the next few days.

Limes, check. Leeks, check. Cilantro...hmmm, it should be with the rest of the herbs. No dice on a cursory glance. We head for the nearest employee.

"Excuse me, but do you sell cilantro?"

The gentleman gives us a confused look. "What? What is that again?"

"Cilantro. An herb, has small flat leaves like parsley, very fresh taste?"

"I've never heard of that. Let's see, maybe this is what you're looking for," as he leads us to the beet greens. Not quite.

As we try again to explain what cilantro looks and tastes like, two different shoppers make their way over to us. Evidently foreigners fumbling through grocery stores is a spectator sport here. They both start offering possible names for this mystery herb, showing us a variety of plants, smelling and peering into our faces to gauge our reactions. One woman sniffs her herbs, mulling over our newest rendition of a description. "Oh, you must mean coriander?" She offers me a sniff of her greenery.

Yes, the scent matches. It looks about right too. I'm tempted to pull off a leaf to chew, but somehow that seems too personal (as though putting my nose into another woman's groceries isn't).

The stock person breathes a sigh of relief. The mystery solved, he can now assuredly lead us to the herb section, deftly recommend the best buy, and go about his business. We grab a package of coriander and head for the next isle. Mystery solved.

Tofu, chicken, broth, a bottle of wine. Kiwi's are crazy about their wine, so we figured we'd start the monumental task of sampling the regional products. Ring it all up...uh oh, carded for the wine. (What do you mean you don't accept a Montana driver's licence as proof of age?) Evidently buying wine is a much more important task than renting a car, or driving legally for that matter. We need our passports to prove that we're old enough. We decide to forgo the wine for the moment and complete the purchase. Groceries in hand, we catch the next bus back to our neighbourhood.

Mum's words about a job well done ringing in my ears, I collect my passport later that evening and head back for that bottle of wine. Ultimately it wasn't very good, but we now know to bring our passports with us when we go to the grocery store. We also know to start thinking of coriander not as simply the spice, but as the plant that produces it. And we try to go to the stores often now: it's nice to cook for ourselves, save some cash, develop a routine and, most of all, taste home.

Nearly legal!

The immigration gods have answered! We received an e-mail late last night informing us that our residency application has been approved!* (*It's now all over but for the paperwork.)

Sorry for the short entry, but that's really all there is to it.

Down to business in Wellington

At some point during each and every vacation, people get tired of living from suit cases, staying in expensive places, staying in places that they wished they had spent more to not stay in, eating out, cooking in borrowed kitchens, etc. They wish they were home so that they could bask in the drudgery of daily life, sit back, enjoy a good beer, sleep in their own bed, and not be expected to do anything—no expectation to have fun.

Now, if we still had these things, and on a predetermined date, we would be brought back to them, I guarantee you that travel weariness would have taken a lot longer to set in. Sadly, I think both of us are ready to be done with the vacation phase of our trip, and we haven't even been to see the South Island yet.

Don't get me wrong, travel weariness is not the same as homesickness. With homesickness you feel bad even if you have no rational reason for doing so. Travel weariness is simply the desire to veg-out or maybe remember where you are when you wake up in the morning.

Far from bummed out, our trip from Tauranga back to Wellington was a pleasant reminder of what we like about NZ. We showed up at the airport and had a nice conversation with the Turkish counter agent. We payed for the overage of our baggage and sat down at the café at the Tauranga airport. The airport felt like a small-town airport despite Tauranga being over twice the size of Missoula.

A group of schoolboys came in—wired from plastic bags full of the spoils of Easter—and their chaperone told them to go outside as to not bother the other passengers. So, they went outside at sat at the picnic benches separated by a lawn and a four foot chain link fence from the runway.

They announced that we should all board, and so we just walked out the door and up to the plane. There was no security screening. We got onboard the plane, and in a few minutes we were whizzing down the runway, with people leaned over the fence and waving to us. I'm sure that security is tighter if you are flying out of an international concourse, but it was nice to get a glimpse of a society that isn't afraid of itself. And you can feel it, that at all levels, kiwis are not destroying themselves psychologically from within the way that I feel the US is.

So here we are back in the bustling but homely (that's homey, not ugly, for you non-kiwis) capital. We're glad to be here, but nevertheless tired of travelling. We'll be staying at a bed and breakfast for a few days until we can find something a little cheaper and a little longer term. I'm actively submitting CVs now, and once one of us has a job here, we'll be looking to find and furnish an apartment.

I'm still keeping an eye out for positions elsewhere, but at this point, Wellington seems like the place. Also, we had our immigration interview last week while in Tauranga. Our friendly immigration agent, based in London, called and asked us a series of questions about how we were finding life in NZ and what we knew about various cultural aspects. I feel very good about the meeting. He told us that they would be making a decision soon and that we would likely hear back within a week. The three outcomes are: 1. application denial (i.e. we go back to the States, lick our wounds, and find jobs there.) 2. work permits 3. residency approval.

Application denial seems unlikely at this point, and while residency approval would be much more convenient for us, long-term work permits would allow us to meet most of our objectives. Our fingers are crossed. We'll keep you posted.

Yarrr... the sea be a cruel mistress

Casting a line into water and pulling out something creepy and delicious has long been a favourite activity of mine. We figured the Pacific ocean might be just big enough to afford us that opportunity here in NZ. So we woke up Saturday at dawn or a little before and moseyed across the street to the Tauranga wharfs to get on a boat with Tim and kill us some sea life.

$190 NZ later we were on a boat, outfitted with poles and all the squid we could want, and motoring across a placid harbour. It was a beautiful day with plenty of sun and only a few rain clouds receding in the distance. After a brief stop to pick up more passengers at Mt. Maunganui, we—roughly twenty souls—pulled away from the wharfs to seek our glory.

As we rounded the mountain to exit the harbour, a statue of a Maori warrior knelt as if to lay a fern leaf at our feet. The Maori welcome visitors to their marae by placing a fern leaf at the visitors' feet after performing a ritual resembling a haka. If you are a friend, you will pick up the fern leaf and carry it with you, being careful not to break it or let it touch the ground. So too was this Maori statue welcoming us to the open ocean, or perhaps it was to greet us on our return.

As we left the calm of the harbour, Tim remarked at how placid the ocean was. With swells of a meter to a meter and a half, our fishing boat slowly made its way toward the island of Motiti, which we could see in the distance.

Our first fishing stop was approximately thirty minutes from the Mount, and that's when Roni and I had our first realisation that the ocean was not at all like the various rivers and lakes that we were used to. Yes, the constant heaving of the ocean—mild though it was—had made us both violently ill.

My first thought was to curse my parents. Couldn't they have taken us to the ocean once as children so that we could have maybe developed some kind of tolerance to sea sickness?

"Don't worry," said Tim. "Everybody gets sea sick at some point, even veterans. I knew a guy who has been sailing since..." I looked over and saw a kiwi leaned over the railing. Okay, it wasn't just the Montanans.

You'd think that at some point you'll get over it, but you don't. We had booked an all day excursion and that's roughly how long we were sick. Roni took the opportunity to head below deck and get some sleep. Her body had had enough. I took the "stare at the horizon" approach. I think she faired slightly better, but she missed more. Tim tells me that you don't even feel meter and a half swells in a sail boat because a sail boat has a keel. Note to self: be on a sail boat next time.

I wasn't in much of a condition to cut up baby squid and feed them on a hook. No, I wasn't squeamish about the squid or the fish smell—simply focussing my eyes on anything closer than the horizon caused intense nausea. I didn't feel too bad about not getting to fish, however, because almost nobody was catching anything of legal size. People were mostly hauling in baby snapper, removing hooks from them, and throwing them back. And that's a fine spectator sport.

We moved around to a few more spots and people mostly had the same luck: bad. Toward the end of the day, we had positioned ourselves in a spot where most of the swells had died down. Miraculously, my sea sickness subsided. Equally as miraculously, larger fish started biting.

I took that opportunity to pick up my previously unused rod, cut up some squid, and put them on the hooks. Wham. Baby snapper. Oh well, toss him back. Rinse, spin, and repeat a few times. Hey, this feels a bit bigger. Ooh a keeper. Not huge, but a respectable snapper. Excellent.

Tim had some good luck. He caught a kahawai, which had to be bled in order to keep its taste, and three snapper. While it didn't seem like a huge haul of fish, Tim didn't really want a bunch of fish anyway, and we certainly weren't in a position to prepare them where we were staying. So, in the end, we had just the right amount of fish: enough for Tim to cook a little snapper and smoke the rest. Despite Roni and I periodically chumming the waters, the poor guy fishing next to me didn't catch a single legally sized fish—and he was fishing the whole day.

Aside from the snapper and kahawai, we caught and saw all kinds of other interesting fish. One fellow caught a large eel, which was very interesting. Another caught a blue shark that was simply stunning. I caught a number of scorpion fish and a couple of (too small) blue cod. The scorpion fish are gorgeous. They have every shade of neon red and orange you can imagine. They also look rather spiny.

I'm glad that my evolutionary senses kicked in, however, and that the colour and spines prompted me to use a rag to handle the fish. While I had no problems handling the snapper and avoiding their razor sharp spines, apparently the scorpion fish are venomous. I don't know how venomous, but I'm just as glad that I didn't have to worry about a venomous sting on top of sea sickness.

After catching a few more small fish, the swells started to pick back up and I was done for the day. Fortunately, we headed back in shortly thereafter. Roni came back up from her nap below deck, got sick again, and together we eagerly anticipated solid ground on the ride back.

Once on ground, we found that, in fact, the ground does pitch and roll for a while. After a shower and a bit of a rest, we felt well enough to go find some food. After a very heavy, cheesy Italian dinner we retreated to our room for the night.

Back to Tauranga

After the bustle of Wellington, we wanted to see a bit more of the sunny north island. We decided to go back to Tauranga for a week to see the sights that we missed the last time around, not to mention the every-day life of the city. Tauranga is the fastest growing city in NZ, after all, so there might be job opportunities here and a progressive style of living. Why not stay for a while to get a feel for the place?

All it all it's been a good layover for us. We had a chance to get caught up on paperwork that we've been putting off up to this point. I applied for a few jobs here, and Peter's been applying for jobs via the internet. We've also had some very fun days on the beaches, another a walk on the mount, checked out a jujitsu dojo, and did some grocery shopping (always fun in another country). We even had our first encounter with The Warehouse, NZs version of WalMart (dun dun DUN!). Not exactly the most exciting week, but well worth it. I think we've seen more of what it's like to live like a kiwi here than on any other other part of our trip.

After a week we've come to the conclusion that Tauranga is a bit sleepy for us. It's definitely a nice place to visit, what with the beautiful scenery and all, but it's beginning to feel like there are two Taurangas. There's the tourist spots that are full of cool cafes, surf shops,kiwifruit orchards, and wineries, and then there's the sprawling shopping and residential areas that are nearly impossible to navigate if you don't have a car. It feels a lot like any other tourist town at this point: nice to visit and equally nice to leave be after a while. We're still drawn to Wellington (for some reason we haven't pinned down yet-call it a predisposition?), so we'll fly down there on Monday to start our next wave of job hunting.

Oh, and this last picture is for Jen. I know you were wanting to see me hugging a tree or some such hippie nonsense, but this was the best we could do for the day. After all, one of us has to be able to dip into the ocean without getting stung by jelly fish.

Wellington: waterfront

Perhaps even more-so than Wellington's cosmopolitan central business district (the locals call it the Cee-Bee-Dee), the waterfront dominates the Wellington cityscape. A lovely park symbolically bridges the gap between city and water; on one side, metal and stone blend into buildings. On the other side, Maori styled wood carvings evoke images of the sea.

There is a different kind of vibrancy at the waterfront. The CBD has the excitement of commerce and urban art. The waterfront has happy people strolling, eating ice cream, bicycling, kayaking, and otherwise enjoying themselves.

We spent a good deal of time simply strolling the waterfront and marvelling at the views, but both days we spent by ourselves in the waterfront district we found our way to New Zealand's national museum, Te Papa. Te Papa is an impressive museum with days or maybe weeks of content to peruse.

Though Te Papa is free to visit, certain special exhibits charge admission. We paid to see the "Splendours of Japan" exhibition (no, we did not pay to see the Lord of the Rings exhibition). Te Papa secured an exchange agreement with the Japanese national museum in Tokyo to display a number of Japanese national treasures, including various scrolls, paintings, sculptures, and (our favourites) some ludicrously sharp looking samurai swords.

Additionally, we spent some time looking at some Polynesian exhibits. We found these a bit overwhelming in one shot. In the future, we'll be taking more trips to Te Papa to explore these exhibits to learn more about the Maori in particular.

After working up a thirst, we found a Mac's brewery. The food was mediocre, but they had a beer called "Brewjolais," which is apparently a one time special brew. That was nice to find. It was another taste of home. Made with fresh hops and lots of fermentables, it tasted very much like a beer from our beloved Kettlehouse brewery in Missoula. Now, if only we can figure out how to get them to make this beer again...

Good 'ol Welly

We haven't been here in Wellington for long, but we're starting to get a feel for the place already. We've met a number of people who have given us a glimpse into what it's like to live here, and it seems like it's a very livable city once you get used to it. It felt very imposing when we first pulled in, we'll admit. But after a day or two of wandering around on foot we're learning where things are, how to get around, and what kind of people make Wellington their home.

So far our impressions of Wellington are mostly positive. The landscape is breathtaking, as the pictures will attest. It has a decidedly metropolitan feel to it and there's a vibrant and artsy feel to the place. The central business district (CBD) is full of professionals wearing suits and game faces, and the skyscrapers and cafes lend it a very urban pace. It can seem a bit sterile during business hours, but on the weekends and evenings it's like any other scenic district.

Not far away is the shopping district, the waterfront park, the national museum Te Papa, and the sloping residential areas. There are little gems of art all over the city. There is a Writer's Walk that features New Zealand wordsmiths, kids play areas, sculptures, and parks. All of these areas sit nestled among the skyscrapers so you're never far from anywhere, really.

It feels as though all of these different areas of the city are all sliding down the hillsides and mashing together on the shores of Wellington Harbour, but they've managed to do it without stepping on a single toe. That being said, we haven't been here long and we've only seen a small portion of the city, but from what we can tell it's a fairly representative sample of the larger community.

We're staying at the Annaday Homestay. For those of you who have never done a homestay before, it's like renting out a bedroom in a fully functioning family home. We have a cosy bedroom and share the bathroom with another couple that is staying here for the month. Breakfast is served every morning in the family dining room, and we get panoramic views in a quiet neighbourhood. Our hosts Ann and Dave are amazingly open and friendly people. They've been very generous with their time and advice, and we've had a number of good conversations in the halls on our way in or out. Their house is of the typical Victorian style of the neighbourhood, high ceilings, wood trim and all. We get the impression that they live in one of the wealthier areas of town because of the size of the houses and the harbour views. These pictures show lots of houses on lush and steep hillsides, and the streets wind their ways like snakes through the trees. It's a good thing they don't get snow here, because getting up and down these hills would be a massive pain in the arse if it did.

This last photo was taken outside of a the Curry Village restaurant. Why the big Luigi statue outside of an Indian restaraunt? The world may never know.

jitsu

We stopped by a dojo to watch a jujitsu (jitsu, they call it) class tonight. I can tell that I'm missing jujitsu. I made a point not to bring my gi so that I could check out the club without pressure. Finding a dojo is a delicate business I think. Some dojos can be testosterone-charged venues for death sport.

Fortunately, this dojo was not one of those. The guys down an the dojo seem really friendly. They keep the fine tradition of "beer-waza" going. I'm sure if we end up here, I'll eventually fit in.

Sure enough, I was kicking myself for not bringing my gi. The club seems much more educationally focused rather than competition oriented. It also seemed like they were pretty careful on the mat to avoid critical injuries. I had been worried about death sport, but if anything, i think this club is more mild than what I'd been studying back in the sates.

This experience also really helped with the homesickness we felt today. For some reason, watching people strike, throw, and strangle each other is a comforting feeling.

Homesick

Well, it was bound to happen. It coincidentally happened around the same time that we started to poke our heads up from vacation mode to look for jobs. It turns out that vacationing is easy, whereas moving across the globe is hard. Who'd have thought?

But, somewhere around noon, homesickness hit. It was short lived, but there nonetheless. All of the things we'd thought about resurfaced: Where should we stay? Is Wellington the right city? Should we be trying to find jobs right away? We miss our cat.

In reality, NZ has met or exceeded our exceptions in all areas but one (Internet access is costly and slow). Evaluated objectively, everything has gone as smoothly as could possibly be expected even in our wildest dreams.

They say acculturation takes place in five phases: euphoria, distress, re-integration, autonomy, and independence. I don't think that we're going to hit these in order. I suspect we'll experience all of them at various points and at varying intensities.

The upshot is that, after a good dinner and a trip to a dojo, we're feeling better for the moment. We also had a nice afternoon chat with some friends over the instant messenger, and that helped immensely. Thanks, Casey, Heather, Jonathan, and Tim! :-)

Driving South

A lot has happened since we've given a geographical update on our travels. We left Tauranga on Sunday the 9th for Wellington. We rented a car, bought ourselves a good map, and headed south toward our hoped-for promise land. A travel specific entry is soon to follow, so all of you interested in the whole driving-on-the-LEFT-side-of-the-road thing should stay tuned! (Note I said LEFT side of the road and not WRONG side of the road; the Americans we've run into thus far who have said that have come across as a little ethnocentric.)

We didn't stop to take pictures and are now kicking ourselves for it. The geographical- and bio-diversity of this country are astounding. After an overnight stop in Palmerston North we finally reached Wellington, or Welly as the kiwis call it.
A small note on Palmerston North. Most importantly, it's Missoula's sister city! As a funky university town with ties to home, we wish we had dedicated more time to it. We stayed at a truly excellent B&B run by quite possibly the nicest lady on the planet. We had our own newly re-modeled loft with a lounging nook and a wide breakfast spread. When we booked over the phone, the proprietor asked me if I had a partner with me or if I was alone.

"Yes, I have a partner with me."

She then asked my name, so I told her and the booking was complete. As we arrived she had just put some freshly baked muffins in our room and written this greeting on a board outside our entrance. I would definitely recommend Nikau Loft (www.nikauloft.co.nz) to anyone wanting to stay in Palmerston North. Sue definitely takes care of her guests there.

We finished the drive to Wellington the next day. It was a great day for driving, and we pulled into the capital city without incident. More on Wellington later.

Mount Maunganui

We woke today with high hopes for a full day of new things. We had made the decision to go sailing with one of Tim’s friends in the afternoon, so we decided to take a hike through a mountain trail/garden in the morning. After a leisurely breakfast that went longer than we expected, we ended up simply going back to Tim’s apartment for a walk to the beach. It was low tide, and we had a great time looking around it the tide pools. And then it started raining.

Needless to say it proceeded to rain pretty heavily for the next three hours, the very same three hours we had scheduled to be on the water. Damnit! But there’s a silver lining that comes free of charge with every rain cloud, so we took the opportunity to buy Peter a kickin’ rain jacket.

After lunch we hiked up Mount Maunganui to catch the view of the Bay of Plenty from above. It was breathtaking! Rainbows over the ocean, the sun casting patches of light on lush and rocky cliffs, long stretches of beach and surf. It’s a little hard to believe that we’re really here. During our hour and a half long hike we came across grazing sheep (they graze them everywhere, even on large mountains in the middle of urban areas), a handful of new-to-us birds, and more unfamiliar plants than I can count. I want to get a field guide so we can start learning the names of these little guys that we’re seeing on a daily basis.

Going Mobile

As much as we wanted to take the day to sight see, we decided to take care of communications details today. We got a mobile phone with a prepaid number for immediate needs and scoped out the wireless access situation in downtown Auckland. Evidently coffee shops here in NZ aren’t keen on offering free access to patrons, so most internet access is found in businesses specialising in computer related activities like web access or gaming. We hear Wellington businesses are a bit more prone to offer general wifi access, so we’re looking forward to checking that out.

We’d made plans to meet with our friend Tim the weekend after we landed, and he surprised us by pulling into town on Friday afternoon. He recommended a sushi bar downtown, so we hopped on a bus and headed back into the bustle. Sushi on a conveyor belt--oh yea! At this little bar you just grab a plate of sushi or sashimi as it goes by and stack the empty plates next to you. Each plate has a design on it that marks the value of the food, so you can eat whatever you fancy and the plates are counted up at the end of the meal. It was the best (and cheapest) sushi I’ve ever had.

After dinner we walked to the pier to look at the boats docks. Most of them were for sale, and we were able to plug Tim for info on sailing. He’s pretty handy if you want an explanation about boat related topics.

This particular boat was designed by a Kiwi to do two revolutionary things: pierce waves instead of going over them, and break the world circumnavigation record while powering its motor with biodiesel. The Maori designs painted on the hull draw on the cultural heritage of NZ and their attention to the environment. Its been in the works for a while and is close to starting its trip. Very slick.

After a few beers here and there to get out of the rain (surprise surprise, the rains tend to soak here) we took a lovely walk home under the stars.

Saturday morning we woke up early and headed down to Tim’s home in Tauranga. It was a gorgeous 2 1/2 hour drive down to the Bay of Plenty (on the east coast of the North Island). They call it the Bay of Plenty because you can basically bury any plant in the dirt and it’ll grow. Personally, I get the feeling that this is the case in a lot of areas of NZ. Once we left the Auckland suburbs we got to see what most of NZ looks like: rolling green hills with patches of trees and livestock. It looks a lot like Bavaria, actually, in that tracts of land are relatively small and each pasture or field is hemmed by a fence of trees or long grass. Of course the big difference between NZ and Germany is the subtropical plant life. There are fern and palm trees blanketing the ground under huge stands of evergreens. I get the feeling that if every human were to leave the island, the plants would simply grow over the buildings and reclaim the area as its own.

Once in Tauranga, we dropped our things off at Tim’s place then headed out to see a bit of the city. Tauranga is the fastest growing city it NZ and has a pop. of a little over 100,000. It sits on a natural harbour and has a great funky small town feel to it. The main beach sits down by Mount Maunganui and attracts surfers and sunbathers. Since it’s fall right now there weren’t that many people on the sand, but there were quite a few surfers taking advantage of waves. We spent most of today getting a rundown of the city from Tim. There’s definitely a cafe culture going on here, so we’ve been eating ridiculously well here. The night life here is pretty much the same as in Montana: all the stores close down and locals go out to eat, drink, and generally be social. We went out for Indian food and a movie. When in Rome...

Tipping

We found a nice little Thai restaurant for lunch with a friendly waitress and tasty food. The problem only came when we went to pay our bill. What is customary for gratuity? We consulted our trusty guidebook and found that tipping is generally not done at all. Only at fancy restaurants with exceptional service does anyone tip, and even then only at 5-10%.

Afraid to believe the book, we leaned over to a lady at the next table, confessed our Yank status, and asked her. Same thing. No tip. Hmm...

She saw the pained look on my face, "Really?" "Yes, really." She tried to console me in the fact that there is a tax assessed on each and every meal purchased in NZ that goes to the government. I think she thought I was disappointed at getting off cheap at lunch. We thanked her for the explanation. I left two dollars on the table anyway and we left.

Ah, the life of a beagle...

Here we sit, safe and sound in Auckland. I must say that the trip from Montana to NZ was much more pleasant than we expected. I thought we would have to roll ourselves out of the plane and drink coffee all day to stay awake, but we felt energetic enough upon finding a B&B to hike up Mt. Eden (more on this in another posting).

The actual flight from the US to NZ was fantastic! At twelve and a half hours the flight was much shorter than we expected. Not that we would have minded a few extra hours. Each seat had its own TV screen with a full menu of movies, TV shows, and video games. It was pretty nice to have the option of watching a few episodes of The Simpsons instead of the latest Legally Blonde nightmare. The seats were even nice enough to afford both Peter and I a good 7 hours of sleep. I only hope that future Air New Zealand flights will go as smoothly.

I must say that the customs folks in NZ are much more pleasant to deal with. Of course they’re picky about environmental protection, but they were all very amiable and easy to work with. I mean, who would mind having their bag sniffed by a beagle? How about a friendly black lab? One of the dogs was lucky enough to find a bag with beef jerky in it (which you can’t bring into the country) so the customs people gave him a bite before carting it away. Ah, the life of a security dog.

All in all we’ve felt very welcomed and appreciated here so far. People are glad to answer the silly questions we yanks ask, like Are we supposed to tip wait staff? and Will this bus take us back to the Mt. Eden neighbourhood? They’ve gone out of their way to make sure we feel comfortable with the new customs (it’ll take us a while before we feel ok with the whole no-tipping thing). I like being able to ask questions without feeling silly about it.

Kiwi language lesson #1: A cell phone is called a mobile (pronounced mo-bile), while a gas station is called a mobile (pronounced mo-bl). I guess it’s all in the accent. More language lessons to follow for all you linguaphiles out there.

Mt. Eden

Mount Eden
Still buzzing from adrenaline we asked the host of our bed and breakfast what she recommended to kill time while our room was being prepared. Being that the Bavaria Bed and Breakfast is located in the Mt. Eden neighbourhood, it turns out that a short jaunt up Mt. Eden killed the required amount of time.

Euphoria set in as we marvelled at the lush green vegetation and gorgeous sunshine. As we walked the path up Mt. Eden, we were treated to several breathtaking views of Auckland.

At the top of Mt. Eden I got an idea of how geologically active New Zealand is. Mt. Eden is only one of a handful of extinct volcanoes that dot the sprawling Auckland cityscape.

Peering down into the crater, my enthusiasm was only tempered by seeing where a band of (presumably) christians had ignored the warnings that the Mt. Eden crater was a fragile and sacred archaeological site that should not be descended into. Down at the bottom of the crater was spelled out in stones, "PRAISE THE LORD." I see that sort of thing, and I hope that they all get taken away in their rapture. Soon, please.

The whole of Mt. Eden was blanketed with green, green grass with the occasional cow milling about (the cattle seemed to be heeding the warning not to descend the crater). Very picturesque.

Our room at the Bavaria Bed and Breakfast was ready by then, and we were starving for lunch, so we left Mt. Eden feeling much rejuvenated.

Pictures of Mt. Eden to come...

Getting ready to leave Three Forks

We've already sold our stuff and carted the remainder to Three Forks to stash at Roni's parents' place. We're having a relaxing time here in their lovely home and with picturesque surroundings.

Our whole trip so far has been all about purging personal belongings. We started with an apartment, car, bikes, and a cat in Missoula and gradually sold or gave them all away. Getting rid of the cat was the hardest, but that has been eased somewhat in that she and Devin, her new owner, are getting along swimmingly.

Tomorrow is the big day. We'll fly out of Bozeman (Belgrade, actually) and sometime on the sixth, we'll be on the ground in Auckland.