Recent Things..

This is what I see every day on the way to work...

Cape Pallister beautifulness.

Mt. Taranaki weirdness...

Flat white yumminess.

More Cape Pallister things.. 250 steps up...

Zexy Zadie and I rockin out....

Being Rich

A good friend reprimanded me (out of love, of course) for my lack of blogging over the last....well....9 months basically. I never actually thought anyone checked my blog in the first place, but this dear lady checks it everyday, so she tells me. Boy, did that make me feel like a real schmuck. When I made the lame yet very truthful excuse that I'm just not a blogger, her reply was short and sincere. "No kidding." So, Patsy Day, this post is dedicated to you.

(And for the record, I write in my journal every night, so I have record of all the things that happen. I just get too lazy to hook my computer up to the ethernet cable in our freezing lounge and type in wool gloves just to keep my fingers from freezing instead of just writing in my journal from the comfort of my cozy, duvet-covered, queen-sized bed.)

My life here is brilliant. Absolutely brilliant. My grandfather on my mom's side (we called him "Papa") had a great sense of humour. Whenever we'd be sitting outside by the pool or enjoying a nice meal, he'd often say one of my favourite phrases ever: "I wonder what the poor people are doing today?" Now, of course, he didn't mean it in a snobby or rich-person sort of way. It was just the realisation that life at that moment was perfect and that he felt like the richest, luckiest man in the world for that brief time. I found myself saying that yesterday as I enjoyed a coffee with my lovely friend, Rachel. We were sitting at Fidel's (a cafe on Cuba Street.....and yes, they do have some weird obsession here with Cuba) in the sun-soaked side porch area surrounded by the coolest mixture of hipsters and business people also enjoying the sunshine and the company of their mates. It was as simple as that, but I felt very lucky and satisfied (plus, I reckon the caffeine had just kicked in.) The weather here is gradually getting warmer and less rainy, yet still as unpredictable as ever. With the sun comes an enormous increase of activity in town. People come out of the woodwork and swarm the streets as if this were the last day of sun ever. It's almost like walking around a festival of sorts with buskers and magicians and Hare Krishna people and people selling jewelery and sausages. And those are just people with an agenda. Most of the people on the streets are uni students or people with nothing better to do (I'm starting to think that people don't actually work here). And these people are gorgeous and very stylish, every last one of them. It's like they all just walked out of an Urban Outfitters, eventhough that doesn't even exist here. Where they get their good style from is beyond me. In addition to the beautiful town and people, I also have an amazing job. My boss is incredible, and my hours couldn't be better. I work at night mostly, so I get to enjoy the day in town before work and then hit the town after work and go dancing. The boys I take care of are adorable little devils. They dance on every last nerve I have and somehow make me melt just seconds later by asking for a cuddle or a kiss. They drive me mental sometimes, and other times I swear I couldn't live without them. I've made a few friends here as well. It's a good feeling walking down the street and seeing familiar faces. I even find myself having to add descriptions to people when I list them in my phone. For example: I now know THREE girls named Rachel. So to keep them straight in my phone, one is Rachel Church, one is Rachel Ohio, and one is Rachel Striped Shirt. It may seem lame to you, but it makes me happy that I have to create such a complex system due to the sudden influx of Rachels/friends in my life. (I suppose I could just ask for their surname, but why mess with a system that works, right?)

So, as I sit out in the sunshine drinking a cuppa while looking out into the rolling hills surrounded by the bluest sea you've ever seen and watching all the white sails gracefully dance across the ocean, I think to myself, "I wonder what the poor people are doing today?"

Some Pictures from Seemingly Ages Ago

My Ohio-en friend, Rachel, and I being awesome at my house (or as she calls it, "The U.S. Embassy).

Scott, Maria (from Germany), Tim, Me, and Marco (from Germany) near Red Rocks. The wind was blowing so hard that day that we literally had to curl up in a ball everytime a big gust came. I came away with very very red, raw skin. It was very painful but very beautiful.

We Never Stereotype

Hello, again. Remember me? I'm the "blogger" of this "blog."

I use these " " because I realize that I am far from being a real blogger and this is far from a real blog. This is the definition of "blog:" a Web site on which an individual or group of users produces an ongoing narrative. With the key word being "ongoing," you can see now my obvious misnomer. Yet, here I sit, attempting to give you some idea of my goings-on in the Wonderful Wellington. Or Wacky Wellington, as I so stereotypically called it a few blogs ago.

So forget everything that I've written about so far in my "blog." Let's just start over, shall we?

I was told a few things about Wellington before I traveled over here. I wrote about the things that I saw as I wanderered around the capital city, but most of these observations were tainted by what I was told. For example.. "Cops don't arrest people who run red lights." Yes, they do. The cops aren't as numerous or as nosey as they are in the States, but they still do their job. "People will think you're crazy if you call the bathroom a bathroom. It's called a toilet." Nonsense. Most people do call them toilets, but no one will think you're crazy if you slip up and say "bathroom." Or, my personal favorite, "All Kiwis hate Americans and resent us being here and taking their jobs." Tim and Scott actually work with such nincompoops, but I personally haven't encountered such people. Everyone I have met has seemed very open and interested as to why I'm here and where I'm from. I guess it really depends on who you talk to. So, I am here to right these misguidances. Actually, I'm here to write more of these misguidances. (Hah, did you notice that nice pun in there? "Right" and "write." Clever, eh?) I have noticed so many things about Wellington that I would love to write about, but they would just end up being more wrong stereotypes or generalizations. The people and the happenings here are just as unique to the person as they are back in the States. Each person/family has their own opinions and actions which differ from another person/family's opinions and actions. For example, many people here (so I am told) already think of Americans as the typical fat, lazy, loud, money-hungry, power-hungry monsters that we sometimes can be. But, I really hate being stereotyped as that, so I, in turn, will try not to stereotype the laid-back, ignorant, proud, stubborn Kiwis.

Just kidding.

I actually had to rack my brain for negative words for the Kiwis. I didn't do a great job of it either. The Kiwis as a whole are a very friendly, stylish, giving, and relaxed people. For example, my boss's husband let me borrow his car for the night because the buses didn't run that late into the evening. I explained to him that I am used to driving on the opposite side of the road, so I felt very uncomfortable. And, besides that, I don't actually know how to drive a manual. He replied with, "Well, it's an old car anyways. Have a go at it, and if you can't figure it out, just leave the f-ing thing on the side of the road and call a taxi. We'll just get it tommorrow." Astonishing. Who in their right mind would let an American girl try to drive a manual car alone on the opposite side of the road in New Zealand's capital city? But he honestly didn't care. And I got home just fine. That's the Kiwi way. But I'm not stereotyping...

Another non-stereotype is that this city is fueled by coffee and alcohol. The entire city literally becomes drunk at about 9 p.m. on weekends. If you are as lucky as I am to be working late into the night on weekends, you'll see what I mean. Just driving through the city, you'll see fights in the middle of the street, people puking behind lightposts, traffic having to stop because some genius thought lying in the middle of the street was a good idea, nerdy guys boldy trying to talk to pretty girls, bars full of drunken dancing, and idiots trying to drive home. It's outstanding. But, during the weekdays (and at about 11 a.m. the morning AFTER said partying), the entire city has a cup of joe in their hand. Cafes can be found at every corner and usually somewhere in between the corners. They are packed in the morning, during lunch, and just after work (and just before happy hour starts). I, admittedly, am a part of this crowd. Coffee is life. Their coffee is much stronger, tastier, and more costly than back home. It also might contain cocaine. I can't seem to get enough of it. In fact, as I type, I'm also calculating just how I can squeeze in a cappuccino before work today... Oh, I think I've just figured it out. Gotta go.

Cheers.

Pictures from Welly Welly

Our daily walk to the bus stop. The little red arrow towards the middle of the pictures is where the bus stop is. The picture is taken from Nicole and Manuel's porch. Needless to say, walking down isn't so bad. It's the walk back up that is a killer.

It must have just snowed on the South Island. You can see that snow cap just dying to have its picture taken. View from the porch.

Nicole showed us this apple. Looks like a gross apple, right? Wrong. It's not real. She painted styrofoam to create this masterpiece for her last film. She actually painted like 50 or so. Amazing.

This is just one way I keep busy at night. The walk is just too much to do more than once or twice in a day. Going into town at night is a real hassle, so we either watch movies on laptops or do things like this to keep us busy.

Mind-blowing sunsets aren't as rare as you think. I'm just too lazy to take pictures everytime it happens. Here is one time, however, when I thought the beauty would be worth the effort.

Sorry that these have been so long in coming. I'll try to do better in the future.

Wacky Wellington

More reasons to love Wellington...

Cops don't carry guns. They carry tasers, but not even the kind that shoot the little barbs. They carry the kind that you have to actually physically touch the bad guy with. So bascially, just run away and you're good to go. Also, cops don't pull over speeding cars or cars that run red lights. They just write down your license and mail you a ticket. In fact, I saw my first cop yesterday. I had been here for 11 days without seeing a single cop. Interesting...

Good news. It is now legal to ride your bike in public...naked. In fact, being naked in public isn't illegal unless you are doing a "lude act" while being naked. So, like I said, good news for all you naked bike riders. Come to Wellington and go for it.

Tribal tattoos are cool here, mostly because the people that have them most likely ARE in a tribe. The Maori people here (the natives) are mostly Polynesian types, descending from tribes. So, unlike the weirdos in the States with tribal tattoos, these guys are legit. You make fun of their tattoos and you're a dead man.

A resume is called a CV. To hire is to rent. A top off is a refill. A lift is an elevator. A prawn is a shrimp. Chips are fries. Lollies are anything sweet (candylike). Biscuits are cookies. The bathroom is the toilet. Don't ever call it a bathroom or a restroom. They'll think you're crazy. You either say "toilet," or say "blokes" or "mens" for the guys bathroom and "women's" or "ladies" for the girls bathroom.

They say "keen" a lot. Like, "Are you keen for working tonight?" Or, "He's keen on coming over tomorrow." Sounds like Mayberry, if you ask me.

Little kids wander around by themselves a lot. You'll see kids as young as 5 or so riding the bus by themselves.

"Blanket Man" is a local favorite. He is a Maori man, in his 50's maybe. He sits on the street everyday on a blanket just laughing and grunting at people walking by. He is very very dark because the sun here is very strong. He sits out in direct sunlight everyday, so naturally he has little skin cancer spots all over body. Oh, and did I mention that he only wears a loin cloth?

New Zealand is said "Aotearoa" in Maori. The literal translation is "Long White Cloud."

The NZ football team is the All Whites. The NZ rugby team is the All Blacks. And the NZ basketball team is.....you guessed it.... the Tall Blacks. We could never get away with that in the States.

Add "as" to the end of a word and you'll sound very kiwi. eg. "Sweet as." "Cool as." "Keen as." It makes you ask the question, though...sweet as what? cool as what? keen as what? I guess I'll never know.

South Island Sunset

The South Island as seen from Nicole and Manuel's porch. We're really high up so we have a great veiw of it. You can't really see it from many other places.