Winding Down

We sold Hank for $300 to a wonderful elderly gentleman named John Penny. John is an ex-pilot, from Christchurch, who lived in Hawaii for 25 years. He's a really nice guy who is gonna give the car to his grandson, for the 3 months he is coming to visit and travel. We estimate that 3 months is about how long Hank has to live. There's a pretty nasty, oily sludge that builds up daily in the overflow reservoir for the radiator, and the radiator itself. Hank overheats constantly now. And the transmission fluid is leaking. He's falling apart! In trying to sell him to a couple of folks our age, before we knew he was dying, he overheated during the test drive. Oops. Betsy and I, in the end, didn't feel comfortable knowningly handing over a broken car to travellers like us; even if it would have netted us $1700. It easily would have. By now we've had a dozen or so callers, and they keep coming daily (our flyers weren't removed upon Hank's sale). Back to John Penny. He's letting us keep the car until we leave Christchurch (Dec 9th), he's buying our phone for his grandson(!), and has offered us a place to shower and a ride to the airport. He's a cool guy, and we're happy that Hank's last few months will be happy, and that we both have a clean conscience.

We're basically out of money, so we're lying low in Christchurch for the final week of South Island time. On December 9th we'll fly to Tauranga to spend a week with our South African friends in Papamoa. We're both looking very forward to it.

Tick, tock...

Otago Central Rail Trail; 90 Miles

Add it to the tally. 7 days of blessed simplicity. Our tent broke in a wind storm.

Clock ticking down quickly!

St. James Walkway; 40 Miles*

Mark down another 40 miles for team Comiskey-Ehlers. Betsy and I enjoyed another lovely tramp, set amid quite different terrain. We encountered far more flat stretches than we were used to. The mountains weren't far away, mind you, but far enough that they were cozy rather than imposing. Because of the scenery, and the type of terrain, this may have been my favorite tramp yet. It was really nice. And the weather was great.

The next four weeks will be spent tramping. This fact is almost literally true. Next is the Central Otago Rail Trail. 90 miles; mostly flat. Here we go...


*The 40 miles may be subject to scrutiny, as this latest mileage was traversed with cutting edge rain gear technology, courtesy of Dick Ehlers. It is super light and waterproof, which may be considered an unfair tramping advantage over our former very heavy, very bulky gear.

Perfect

After an awesome 2+ weeks, Mr. Ehlers heads back to America today. We were sad to see him go, but the time together was much enjoyed.

To start with, that guy is an absolute treasure of a man. Of a human being. If someone told me "You're a lot like Dick Ehlers", I would consider it the highest compliment. Being in his company for two weeks was a treat. I could go on and on about how much I like this guy, how much I admire him... but he would probably prefer that I don't. Let's just say, he's the man.

The visit was awesome. Betsy and I flew to Auckland, slept in the airport to save money (eat your heart out Lee), and then joined Dick right off the bat to start the festivities. We toured Auckland for a day, saw the boats (the Ehlers' never miss a chance to see some boats in the water), went to the Maritime Museum, had a couple of great meals, chatted with a model boat maker who was fun and talkative, and got an impromptu tour of a boating supplies store. Betsy and Dick like boats a lot! They ate it up. Ocean water runs in their veins.

That night we stayed in the nicest room I had seen in awhile (not saying much of course, but it was nice), then boarded a train heading South in the morning. After a nice train ride during which Betsy and Dick took lots of pictures, we arrived in Wellington. Wellington suited us more than Auckland. We spent two nights there, enjoying a quaint little Bed & Breakfast both nights. The breakfast was awesome! In Wellington we visited the Botanic Garden, and Te Papa National Museum, among other stops. As became a pattern on Dick's visit, we ate well(!), walked a bunch, and talked.

A ferry ride (much enjoyed by the Ehlers' duo), another beautifully scenic train journey, and we arrived in Christchurch. About as quicky as we could arrange it, we hopped on another train and headed to Greymouth over on the West coast, via the TranzAlpine Scenic Rail journey. That ride was really pretty.

The West Coast escapades included heading as far south as the Franz Josef glacier, and as far North as the pancake rocks in Punakaiki. The West coast was gorgeous, some of the best stuff we've seen here in NZ. The pancake rocks, and the accompanying fury of the ocean, was breathtaking. It was awesome, in the truest sense of the word. We stayed in wonderful accommodations, ate delicious food, watched beautiful sunsets over the ocean from our private balcony. Unreal. Memorable. Fantastic. Beyond words really.

The fun, the beauty, the memories continued as we headed back east through Christchurch to the Banks Peninsula. One night in Governor's Bay, then two in Akaroa. We were enjoying the water, usually only feet away, the whole time. Betsy and I took a cool ride in a kayak (I didn't get sick), and Dick went out solo in a small row boat (a dingy I believe they called it). It was all so much fun! One more night in Governor's bay on the way back was the icing on the cake.

The whole time was so darn fun, so totally enjoyable. Dick was a model guest. The guy is so pleasant to be around it's almost supernatural. Betsy and I had a great time. Dick and Betsy took lots of walks (many while I was wasting my life on the internet), and had good lots of father-daughter bonding. We all talked a lot. The talking, and the conversations, were very enjoyable. Turns out Dick Ehlers is one funny guy. He regularly had me rolling with his wit.

All and all, it was perfect.

Some Pictures

http://www.flickr.com/photos/37421672@N02/sets/72157622545459432/

A bit old, and a few duplicates, but enjoy.

This One's for Lee

I'm reporting from the Christchurch Central Library this time. A few items of note in my mind today.

Hank got new shoes. After the horrible grinding noise Hank made every time we stopped became too much to handle, Betsy and I decided to take him to see the doctor yet again. "It's the brake pads. Guarantee it." $100 later, Hank had some new kicks, and the horrible grinding noise has stopped grinding my brain.

The Christchurch Central Library has Sports Illustrated! Not only do they have the latest (or nearly) issue, but they have many back issues. This beats finding a Borders. Awesome. I've picked out about a dozen to take a look at.

The biggest news is of the chess variety. Some of you may recall a legendary chess match I played the last time I was in New Zealand, in Christchurch's Cathedral Square. Well, I revisited the life size playing board again today. For those of you that haven't heard, the board is life size because each piece is the size of a toddler, and the board is as big as a living room. The last time I played on this massive, very public board Lee Granas was my corner man, so to speak. This time, Lee was there in spirit. Dry mouthed, wobbly kneed, I played a Maori yet again. Playing in such a public way, on such a novelty of a board, induced some nervousness I wouldn't ordinarily experience; but it's part of the experience. I played solidly, if conservatively, and didn't make any big mistakes. My opponent's efforts fell short, and I emerged from chess battle victorious. It was really gratifying to play on this very memorable board again, and I would like to dedicate my victory to Lee Granas.

Moving Right Along

Chalk up another couple of hikes for Team Comiskey-Ehlers. We hiked 45 miles in 6 days, on the hardest portion of the Queen Charlotte track. At night, instead of staying in huts, we bonded on our own in our tent! Then, we headed over to Nelson Lakes National Park. We spent a couple of beautiful days there. Day 1 included a arduous but very rewarding hike to about 5000 ft. The views were spectacular, some of the best we've seen. We also saw our first snow up close! Day two involved mostly reading and playing with the cutest little baby ducks I've ever seen. At this stage, their "quacks" were more like barely audible little chirps. Adorable.

Now, we're eagerly awaiting the arrival of Mr. Dick Ehlers. We'll make our way to Christchurch, then fly up to Auckland to meet him, then work our way back down, with him, on a scenic train journey. Good times, lucky us.

Just read Into Thin Air, by Jon Krakaur (?). It was the most gripping book I've read in a while. Now I'm reading Three Cups of Tea, recommended to me by the very credible Lee Granas. Of course, I'm also reading a chess book; Winning Chess Openings, by Yasser Seirawan. I'm learning the Barcza Opening, King's Indian Defense, and the Pirc Defense. Good reads (and openings) all.

Epic. 9 days, 62 miles; with 40 lb Packs. We Rule.

Snippets of the Abel Tasman National Park Coastal Track experience…

(One quick disclaimer: I did not proofread this gargantuan entry. Sorry!)

Food. Food food food. We didn’t bring enough food! We realized on about day 1.75 that we were short on food. Well, Betsy realized it. I was happy to keep on chomping away until we ran out, then deal with it. Therefore, Betsy had the unenviable responsibility of continually tell me “Chris, we can’t have anymore ______.” Fill in the blank with cheese, crackers, bread, lollies (candy), biscuits (cookies), chocolate, instant mashed potatoes, instant rice, instant vegetables, oatmeal, dry cereal, peanut butter, or peanuts. I was hungry. Constantly. Up hills, down hills; hungry. Cold, warm, wet, dry; hungry. Tramping, reading on the beach, getting ready for bed; hungry. We can go ahead a coin a new phrase. The Abel Tasman Diet. Put it right up there with the South Beach Diet, or the Atkins Diet. It’s so very simple. Tramp 4.5 hours a day, over 9 days, and just don’t bring enough food! However, Betsy and I aren’t preparing for a career in modeling, so we weren’t looking to starve ourselves. Luckily, we came across many generous, caring people that had a bit of food, sometimes a lot of food, to spare for a couple of starving Americans. I want to thank:

1) Sandy, for the 5 snack logs, and ½ jar of peanut butter.
2) Robert and Diana for the scone.
3) Peter and Jess for the Nutella.
4) The Kiwi flight attendant traveling with the girl from Texas for the 2 apples and chocolate.
5) Andrew and Chris for the barbecue flavored rice crackers, and the canned peaches.
6) Josepe for the unopened package of crackers, two slices of cheese, two packets of oatmeal, and the offer of a chocolate bar.
7) Chad and Ginny for the salami, cheese, and the delicious, huge cups of hot chocolate!

Unreal. We would have starved without all this food! Enough about food.

Chad and Ginny, the donors of hot chocolate, are from Anchorage, Alaska. We had the pleasure of sharing a hut with them, about halfway through the tramp. Chad loves wine, and Ginny is a veterinarian. Cool people. They enhanced my opinion of Alaskans. They are NOT fans of Sarah Palin. At all. Two days after saying goodbye, I unraveled a fresh pair of socks to discover they had slipped a $20 bill into the fold, along with a note reading “Chris and Betsy- it’s hard being young, in love, and poor. Have a couple of burgers on us! -Chad and Ginny” Wow. We were shocked. Betsy got goose bumps. What generosity. We have no way of thanking them, no last names, no email addresses. Awesome. Someday we’ll have to pay it forward to another young couple.

We met a great mid-20s Taiwanese guy named Simon. Well, Simon is only his American name. Well, his 2nd American name; his first was Vulcan, but it was “too hard to pronounce and to spell.” He’s about my height, rather slight, with big calves. I absolutely loved Simon. He was the sweetest person I’ve met in a long time. One example involves Betsy. Betsy suggested the answer to a question was a number somewhere in the 70s. Simon replied, “Yes, I cannot remember; it was either somewhere in the 70s, or 82.” He spoke gently, softly, and respectfully. Betsy and I both noticed this moment, and knew the correct answer was undoubtedly 82, but that Simon preferred not to correct Betsy. He was the sweetest guy. He wasn’t a master of the English language, but what he did know he spoke well and pronounced clearly. We told him as much, and he was happy to know it. “I am happy you told me this” he said, smiling. He expressed his wish to be able to express himself more fully, and was very happy that Betsy understood the fatigue that results from speaking a foreign language all day long. He had the sweetest laugh too. I asked the population of Taiwan, and he told me it was 23 million (I think). I then told him (as a Canadian had told me earlier in the day) that the population of all of Canada, huge Canada, was only 34 million. “Only 34 million?! Oh my, it’s so big!” he said, holding his hands far apart to indicate Canada’s vastness, while cracking up. He got a big kick out of that. Simon is a very brave guy. After his obligatory military service, he was working as a mechanic at a natural gas power plant. Against his parents wishes, and against the ethos of his native culture, he decided to travel. To a foreign country. That speaks another language. By himself. Awesome. So brave. I plan to “friend him” on Facebook. One more Simon story… He told us about a guy he met in a hostel, from Philadelphia, that was reading the Tao te Ching. The Tao te Ching! But he was from Philidelphia! Simon thought this was very funny, amusing. “I think this is very confusing!” he said, shaking his head. Religion. What religion are you? I had to ask. “For me, right now, I’m not ready for religion.” He explained that he liked and was interested in the philosophies of the religions, but not really in practicing any right now. I really liked that guy. Betsy got some good shots of us chatting. They’ll be available for public consumption, eventually.

That was a long snippet. Here’s a short one. There’s a lot of time to think on a 9 day tramping journey; I can think about baseball, and sports, endlessly. Bo Jackson, Brad Hawpe, John Olerud’s swing, the Rockies, spring training was awesome, Mugsy Bogues was my favorite childhood basketball player, Barry Sanders my favorite NFL player, I hope Roger Clemens ends up behind bars, Pernell “Sweet Pea” Whitaker was awesome, I can’t wait to learn the King’s Indian Attack, Christian Okoye is my favorite Kansas City Chiefs player ever, the Jayhawks finally won a national championship, I wonder if the Royals will ever win another World Series, George Brett was awesome…

Our camera stopped working on day 2. Oops.

We got walking sticks! I found mine on about day 2 or 3, Betsy on about day 4 or 5. They’re awesome! Just sticks of wood, from some old tree, but priceless to us. I feel some level of affection for my stick. At one point we forgot our sticks at a hut, and we went back for them without flinching.

Once again, the tramp bordered on the spiritual. This time, the exhaustion wasn’t so much physical as mental. It was long, hard, and we were hungry! Showing restraint with food is an act of willpower. So is hiking up a big damn hill when you’re already tired. For us then, it was willpower morning, noon, and night. Mentally, it was draining. But the rewards were great. It was immensely satisfying to make it back to our camp today, and to feast on chocolate sandwich creams! I feel stronger, better, for having survived, persevered.

Tramping in New Zealand, with Betsy, is awesome. The Abel Tasman was such an amazing experience. We saw so many beautiful vistas, and amazing stretches of beach. We hauled our ridiculously heavy packs up and down great big hills, in all manner of conditions. We waded through belly deep tide pools, that were damn cold. We waited for hours in the rain, for a stream to get low enough to cross. And we did it all together. It was awesome. We rule.

Hello South Island

Tomorrow we set off on the Abel Tasman National Park Coastal Track. It's one of New Zealand's "Great Walks." We'll be out there, sweating, eating, camping, and enjoying, for over a week. Wish us luck!

The North Island Border

Walking down Lambton Quay yesterday, on our way back from the Wellingon Botanic Garden, it appeared before me, bathed in a golden light. My Mecca. We had stumbled upon it, as if by fate. Destiny. Borders. The bookstore! Books and music. And tons of magazines! And big comfy chairs. And tons of sections, with tons of books, and plenty of sports books. Home. I love it. I haven’t seen a mega-bookstore since, since… since Auckland!

Nine months or so since Auckland, a bit longer since I last… Two days ago I decided. Too many days of white food, at room temperature. The thought first occurred to me during our Lake Waikaremoana hike. It sounded sooooo good, after hours and hours of hiking. My goodness I’d love a great, big, juicy, fatty, salty… hamburger. A whopper. With everything on it. Who am I? A hamburger? I was a vegetarian for 9 years, and I haven’t had a hamburger since I became a carnivore again. Even before vegetarianism, I hadn’t been in the habit of eating fast food since high school. So when I walked into Burger King two days ago, I ordered a double whopper! With everything. It was divine. Best hamburger I’ve ever eaten.

Got new kicks yesterday! New shoes, that is. They’re Asics. Motion control even, to manage the pronation problem I have. Flat feet. I have flat feet. I blame my dad. Wait, how can we afford new shoes?? We can’t. But we really can’t afford for my feet to fall apart during any of the 46.5 hikes Betsy has planned for us on the south island. My old pair was falling off my feet. My grandpa Sam would have been proud.

I saw a movie in an actual theatre! “District 9” was the lucky winner. It was a really fun, interestingly filmed science fiction movie. I liked it, and loved being in a gigantic, modern, mega, 15 screen movie theatre.

In short, spending a few days in Wellington has been awesome. It has all the comforts a child of the suburbs needs.

We’re heading south. On Sunday we’ll load Hank on the inter-island ferry and float on over to Picton. Round 1 will be the Abel Tasman Coastal Track. Round 2, Nelson Lakes. Round 3, Queen Charlotte Track. Round 4… You get the idea. Betsy is over the moon with excitement, and I’m… wondering if we can see one more movie in the cinema before we go.

A Great Walk

The adventures have picked up.

After a heartfelt goodbye (Wendy and Bridgette were awesome flatmates, that became good friends), we headed off toward the East Cape. If I were a giant, and New Zealand was my home, the East Cape is the room I would go to when I wanted to be alone. It was delightfully unpopulated, with plenty of coastline. The beaches were eerily loaded with driftwood, and the few, isolated houses were in various states of disrepair. The East Cape could be a lonely place. We just kept on driving, viewing most of it from the car. It was a pleasant, quiet start to the post-work stage of our journey.

We met up with our now former flatmate Wendy at Lake Waikeramoana. This was to be our first “Great Walk”. There are about a dozen of them in New Zealand, and they’re supposed to be… great. I wasn’t so sure. It could be cold. It could be wet. It could be cold and wet! I could get blisters. I might just get really, really tired. What if it’s just really boring. Day 1, alone, was supposed to be 5 hours; uphill. Gulp. I sucked it up. 45 kilometers, 4 days. It was a religious experience. A revelation. By the time we made it back to our cars, I felt like the Buddha. 4 days of rigorous hiking, with a single purpose to my existence, left me with a profound sense of calm. Everything made sense. Enlightenment, baby. Zen and the Art of Tramping. New Zealand style.

Today, we’ve made our way to Palmerston North. I sit in a “stunning” library, in a city that is home to NZ’s largest university. Tonight we’ll sleep in a small, free campground, in a small town not far from here called Fielding. We’ll slowly make our way west to Mt. Eggmont, and then to the Whanganui River. From there, we’ll rent a canoe and float lazily downstream for 4 days. I’m not complaining.

On the Road Again

Life is good here. We love our routine at 285 Range Rd, love our flatmates, love the new house cat Monkey, but aren’t exactly crazy about the increasingly boring work at MPAC. On the plus side though, with regard to MPAC, it has gotten me into great shape. I’m a machine! I haven’t been in this good of shape since high school. I’m ready to accompany Betsy on all those beautiful, gorgeous, breathtaking hikes she’s sure to drag me on. Life is tough.

Having saved enough money, and having gotten Hank into playing shape, we’ll be hitting the road on August 16^th! We’re very excited. On top of that huge reason to feel good about life, we have another visitor coming! This mystery guest will be arriving in late October, and we’re thrilled. Any guesses?

I’m reading about a zillion books right now. I just finished “Obama; From Promise to Power”, which I read in a four day mad dash. I discovered it at the library on accident, and decided to squeeze it in before we hit the road. As some of you may know, I’m a certified Obama worshipper, and I needed a fix. I’m also reading a sports biography. “Heart, Soul, Fire; the Journey of Paul Briggs” is about a boxer from Austrailia/New Zealand. It’s a surprisingly raw and intense read, given the genre. Another on my bedside table is “The Tibetan Book of Living and Dying.” It’s about, not surprisingly, the ancient tradition of Tibetan Buddhism. I’m a fan. I’m also slowly, methodically working my way though “Winning Chess Combinations” by Yasser Seirawan. I dig chess. And finally, I’m frequently hunched over an anxiety workbook purchased for me by my good friend and recent visitor Lee Granas. She’s awesome. It turns out I’m quite anxious much of the time, and there are things that can be done about it. I’m very hopeful. But anxious.

Hank Errand; Lee & Paeroa

Hank Errand

Hammerin’ Hank is running like never before. He says he feels 20 years younger after his makeover. Turns out Hank was suffering, as we suspected. On the very day Lee and I went to have him checked out for his Warrant of Fitness (WOF), he became substantially more ill. He was coughing a lot, and could barely run over 25 kph. We took him to the car doctor the following day, and anxiously awaited news on his condition.

We were thrilled to learn Hank was going to make it! The bad news: he needed some work. It wasn’t a short list. A new set of spark plugs (spark plugs ignite the fuel/air mixture in the cylinders, which then explodes/expands, which makes the car go). A new set of leads (leads give spark plugs their spark). A new gasket toward the top of the engine block. A new alternator belt. And then the cosmetic fix-ups. A new radiator cap (which could be responsible for Hank consistently losing radiator fluid). A new brake light. A new bolt to hold down the spare tire (which, among other factors, prevented Hank from getting his WOF). A can of Stop Smoke (also to pass the WOF test). One day and NZ $500 later, Hank was a new man, with a new attitude. He says he wants to go by Henry now.

Betsy and I are pleased to have gotten this work done on Hank. I mean Henry. We will feel a lot better setting off in a month or so, in a healthy car.



Lee & Paeroa

Having Lee here was awesome. It was very good to see her. She is now officially the only person to visit me in New Zealand twice! She seemed great, looked great, and was great fun. We talked and talked and talked.

Hanging out and talking was the main attraction, but no Lee visit is gonna go down without some serious movie watching. We saw Star Trek, which Lee guaranteed we would like, at a movie theatre in Te Puke. Her guarantee was right on the money, and the theatre wasn’t half bad either. There was even some excitement during the outing, as we almost got busted for sneaking candy into the theatre! The elderly ticket taker looked at Lee’s baggy jacket and asked “You bringing in food?” “Just the coke” she coolly replied, holding up the Diet Coke she had purchased from the concession stand! We saw Transformers 2 at the Mt. Maunganui Cinema on Lee’s half-birthday. Happy 30.5 Lee! No one made any guarantees on that one, and good thing. The real reason for Lee’s trip I suspect, was the opportunity to see Harry Potter 6 before anyone in America. She didn’t pass up that opportunity, and she wasn’t about to be stopped by the ticket taker there either! The rental of note was Footloose, up to now a gaping hole in Lee’s 80’s movies repertoire. It was love at first sight when she laid eyes on the 18 year-old Kevin Bacon.

I dare say that Lee’s favorite part of the trip, other than seeing Betsy and I, may have been the food. Crumpets were a major hit, and Hell Pizza was a success, but L&P was a grand slam. Lemon & Paeroa, known as L&P, is a fizzy drink (soda) originating in a small New Zealand town named Paeroa. Now owned by a major soft drink corporation, it is very popular around here. It is somewhere along the lines of a sprite, or ginger ale, with a hint of lemon; but it’s good. And Lee agreed. She really agreed. “I didn’t believe you guys, but you were right.” was her confession. We let the L&P speak for itself, and now she’s a believer. In fact, she liked it so much, I think they should rename it Lee & Paeroa. Lee & P for short.

In closing, I couldn’t help but notice the wisdom she is gaining out there in San Francisco. I’m very proud of her for how much she is growing, learning, and maturing. I have always expected great things of her in life, and she isn’t letting me down. I feel lucky to be able to call her my close friend.

Back in the Game

I’m back in the game. Chris the Stacker. I start tomorrow as a stacker at MPAC, the kiwi fruit packhouse where Betsy works! I’m very excited that my unemployment was so short-lived. I went in this morning and filled out all the paperwork, and gave my fingerprint James Bond style. That’s how we sign in at MPAC, with our employee number and fingerprint. Ta. Dow.

Lee arrives Friday. Lee is a good and old friend of mine, and the person I have to thank for meeting Betsy. It was at Lee’s Thanksgiving party in 2006, on Yerba Buena island in San Francisco, that Betsy and I first met. I’m very excited to see her!

Eric and Elena took many photos during their visit. I’ll go ahead and pass on the fun.

Eric's Photos:
http://picasaweb.google.com/saverioiv/NewZealand#

Elena's Photos:
http://picasaweb.google.com/elena.spagnolie/NewZealand200902?authkey=Gv1sRgCNCrzf-A_bucvwE&feat=directlink

The Day the Earth Stood Still; A Rotten Peach

June 24, 2009

Betsy is working at the pack-house until 4:30 today. What have I done with my first morning alone, one day after the departure of our dear friends Eric and Elena? Watched “The Day the Earth Stood Still” of course. When else will I watch a cheesy, Keanu Reeves science-fiction movie? Well, come to think of it, Lee is visiting soon…

Eric and Elena’s visit was awesome. They’re great! …as Tony the Tiger would say. I took 6 hikes in two weeks, easily a record for me. Mt. Maunganui, Papamoa Hills, Waitomo, Rainbow Mountain, Cathedral Cove, and Papamoa hills again. Goodness gracious; a lot of hiking. Betsy was working for one of them, Eric and Elena were taking a highly rated tour of the Waitomo Caves on another. For the most part, they were all amazing. New Zealand rarely disappoints, and these tramps were no exception. In addition to hikes, we spent lots of quality time together. Eric and I played quite a few games of chess, some of them epic! One game in particular stretched on for approximately 3 hours. These games often happened (or started, anyway) when Betsy, Elena, and Wendy watched Shortland Street. Shortland Street is a soap opera, New Zealand style; Wendy, for those of you that don’t know, is our All-Star flatmate here on Range Rd. One night was spent playing poker, with the losers facing dish duty the following day. I’m proud to say the game ended with my girl Betsy sitting in front of the biggest pile of chips! Another evening was spent playing Euchre, then consoling Eric and Betsy… after Elena and I cleaned their clocks! Have no doubt, there was some movie watching sprinkled in there too. We viewed “Man on Wire” (thumbs up), “Once Were Warriors” (a New Zealand movie; good, but very hard to watch; NOT a feel good movie), and “Whale Rider” (also a New Zealand flick, but good and feel good). Best of all though, there was lots of conversation. Betsy and Elena each seemed to solidify the opinion that their growing friendship is fantastic, and that the other party is an awesome, amazing person. Refreshingly to them, they see eye to eye on a lot of things, sometimes in areas where Eric and I can be stubborn. Eric and I also enjoyed one another’s company. Eric is my man! I really like that guy. He continues to mature as a person, and I’m proud to call him my best friend. The four of us also took walks on the beach, and occasionally paired off in the less common Chris and Elena, Eric and Betsy combos. That too was very enjoyable, as I find Elena to be an increasingly delightful person as the years go by. Betsy and Eric, for their part, have developed a fun friendship that involves its fair share of good natured debate and competition. In short, the four of us get along wonderfully, and loved spending so much quality time together.

Goodbye Sidetrack Café. I’m no longer the American dishwasher extraordinaire. After being told it was “too slow to come in” four days in a row, I loaded up my pride and self-respect, and told my boss that I’d look for another job. She fed me a few lines of her usual bullshit, and that was that. …Until they came calling again. Turns out some of the pricing I was working on can’t expediently be completed without my services. Who knew? What I do know is that I’m not going to continue my habit of going above and beyond the call of duty without feeling properly appreciated. And properly remunerated. When I stopped in to help out for a few (20) minutes on Friday, I made sure Eric and Elena received a free flat white (NZ’s standard coffee) for my troubles, and picked out a (free) boysenberry mudcake muffin for Betsy. Tomorrow when I show up to help out officially, I’ll get a 60% raise over what I was making as the dishwasher.


June 25, 2009

Betsy is working again, and I just got back from the beach. I watched the sun rise over the Pacific Ocean. Attempt to describe beauty in 3… 2… 1… It was so beautiful that someone must be writing a song about it right now. God plopped down some heavenly pink right where the sun would rise, then smeared it all across the horizon until it dried on his fingers and left only heavenly pink streaks. Throw in some clouds to bring out the texture and depth of the display. Let the sun burst through in some spots, and shyly peek from behind in others. Let the shimmering ocean take care of itself. Bingo. Another day at the Papamoa/Mt. Maunganui office for God.

I won’t be going in for that 60% raise after all. I was text messaged last night by one of Peach’s (my boss) employees letting me know she had changed her mind, and was going to have her boyfriend Paul complete the job instead. Poor Paul. There are so many reasons I’m thankful I’m not Paul.

We have a new flatmate named Bridgette. Like Wendy, she is from South Africa. Also like Wendy, she seems to be a very pleasant person. It is amazing for the sheltered little American that I am to hear stories of her home country. Bridgette parks her car in front of the house here in Papamoa, but would never do so in Johannesburg, for fear of it being stolen. She also wouldn’t walk around the house with the blinds open; especially when home alone. In fact, after dark, it would be ill-advised to be home alone at all. The same goes for stopping at “robots” (traffic lights) after dark. Even further, don’t even drive a car that is more than five to seven years old, or has more than 60 or 70K on it, as breaking down is dangerous. This is all amazing to me. What’s more amazing? As most of us know, on that continent it gets much, much worse.

Good Riddance Links Ave

Life has returned to normal after the departure of my parents. Normal? Well, maybe not exactly “normal”, if there ever was such a state in our New Zealand existence.

What became the Links Ave. nightmare is finally over. Mostly. We moved into our new flat a few days ago, and I’m pleased to say it’s like a breath of fresh air. It’s refreshingly tidy, refreshingly friendly, and refreshingly mature. Two of our new flatmates, Wendy and Ruth, are adults in our age bracket who hold down fulltime jobs. Sky, flatmate number three and Ruth’s 11 year-old daughter, is more mature than our former loose cannon flatmate Justin. In fact, Sky is a really cool, sweet, articulate, and mature kid. Old flat vs. new flat… night and day. Betsy and I feel like we can breathe again.

The nightmare is mostly over. We owe money for expenses (utilities). Fair enough. We were finally notified of this fact, after 2 months of living there, roughly 3 minutes before we left. No exaggeration. One day later, Justin wanted to know, via text message, when he would get his money. One day after that, Justin, in all his wisdom, decided to almost double the amount he thinks we owe him. And set a “due date”, after two months of dragging his feet.. After being very, very unimpressed with his behavior during our stay there, we’re not too surprised at his behavior now. We intend to pay the original amount he billed us, in 8 weekly installments. We’ve chosen to pay in weekly installments because this was the time interval we originally bargained for. Even after we’ve moved out, Justin the Terrible is still giving us headaches.

Work is holding stable at bearable. Some days are still very boring, while others involve writing letters! Yes, my secret identity as a competent letter writer has been discovered. Among my body of work is a letter to a New Zealand immigration official. It was written on behalf of my boss, for a coworker seeking an extension to her work visa. The application was faxed and approved two days later. Also on my resume is a letter to the owners of our building, again posing as my boss, asking for permission to install electric heaters for the outdoor portion of our café. All this while I’m on the clock. Getting paid to write letters, I guess you could say I’m a professional writer now!

Ocean Waves, The White Island

My parents are in town. They're staying at the Ocean Waves Motel. I see this motel on my way to work every day, so I gave it a look when scouting out places for them to stay. I think my parents would agree, it didn't disappoint. The views from their second story balcony/patio are amazing. Sometimes breathtaking. Wow. Other times, just mesmerizing. You know how you can stare at a campfire for a long time, and somehow not get tired of it? Like that. The waves crash into the rocks over and over, and you just never get tired of seeing it. Yes, you can see the ocean, and the waves crashing into the rocks from their room. And it's a nice room. We've hung out in there quite a bit, having meals (soup, spaghetti, pizza, desserts), watching movies (Rendition), and playing cards (Scat, Sevens). It's been a really nice base camp for Betsy and I to hang out with my parents, and for them to hang out in New Zealand.

Last weekend we went to The White Island. The White Island is one of New Zealand's two active volcanoes. It's an hour long ferry/boat ride off the coast of Whakatane. ("Wh" is pronounced with the "f" sound; and the "e" on the end is a long "e": Fock-eh-taan-e.) Whakatane is about 100 kilometers south of Mt. Maunganui. My mom and I got a bit seasick on the way out to the island. The waters were pretty rough. When I wasn't seasick, I was sleeping. My gift- the ability to sleep just about anytime, just about anywhere. My mom was fine, chatting away with Betsy, until she got up to use the bathroom. Go figure... Me and Vicki, unflappable in any conditions; except on boats. Or on hilly, windy roads. Or on roller coasters. Or anything that spins. Or drops. Or when we eat anything with milk in it. Or sometimes in airplanes. Or if I'm out in the sun too much. And I can't have too much sugar. And I can't smell. And neither of us have very good eyes, or hearing. Perfect physical specimens. We were born to be astronauts. ...So it was pretty appropriate that being on the White Island was like being on Mars. It had a forbidding landscape; dry, harsh, windswept. There were big piles of yellow deposits, vents of billowing steam, and a huge steaming lake of very acidic water. In fact, this lake, one of the most acidic in the world, has a pH of less than 0! I didn't know this was possible, but apparently it is (I looked it up; pH is a relative scale, not an absolute one, and although not very common, a pH of below zero is quite possible). It was the climax of a very forbidding landscape. Attempts have been made over the years to mine this island, but all have ended in failure and/or tragedy. Now, the island is privately owned. The owner pockets $30/head for every White Island visitor. Good gig for him!

I've been working at Sidetrack Cafe for a couple of months now; I finally got a few shirts to wear to work. They're used. A lot. And I have to return them when I leave, or have the money deducted from my holiday pay. The front of the shirt says "sidetrack cafe", and then below that it says "business award winners". Betsy wants to know, "Why does it say 'winners'?" Along with the shirts, I've also been given a bit more responsibility. Now, sometimes, I man the till. A cappuccino costs $3.50 or $4.50, depending on size. A latte in a glass runs you $4.50, while a latte in a bowl will set you back $5.50. Smoothies, $7. Juice, $5. Eggs, toast, and a side, $13. An extra side, $3.50. Chris' extra wages for increased responsibilities, $0. Chris' reduction in boredom, significant.

14 Links Ave is not working out. We're moving out. We're in the process of looking for a new flat right now. We've looked at 3 places thus far, and haven't been moved to pull the trigger just yet. We'll see. Our reasons? Let's not throw stones in a glass house we're still living in.

Notes to Readers:
1) Comments are appreciated.
2) Sometimes I cannot will myself to proofread.

Snow day!

The snow day. Remember that feeling, from when you were still in school? I was reminded what that feels like today, when I received a text from work that I didn't need to come in. Snow day!!!

Funny work story. Last week a coworker named Poloma was frying up some bite sized somethings, and I asked what they were. Chicken something or other. "Want to try one?" Sure! I always jump at the chance to eat at work; kills time, soothes the belly, staves off the shakes (low blood sugar), kills time. She pointed me toward the pile of cooked chicken somethings. "Mmmm, chicken" Homer Simpson's voice said in my head. I popped one in my mouth and scurried back to my corner. Hmm. Cold? Weird- but oh well. Mushy. Mushy is odd. I froze. Are these even cooked? "Poloma, was it that pile you pointed to?" "No." Her eyes widen with disbelief. "OH CHRIS!!! You didn't! I was going to say, but I thought 'No, he knows'." I didn't know. I took the ball of breaded mush out of my mouth and spit into the trash can, as the buzz of hilarity and disbelief spread through the chicken. There were lots hands over mouths. The occasional "Chris! Oh my gosh!" And the expected trickle in of "What happened? ...Oh no!"

I, Chris Comiskey, who is so easily grossed out by so many things, chomped away on a piece of breaded RAW chicken. Gross.

I'm a worrier too...

Panic set in. I might get Salmonella poisoning. Somebody call 111! (New Zealand's 911). "Go wash out your mouth in the toilet!" Kat said. She wasn't referring to the toilet bowl; the bathroom/restroom is referred to as the toilet. Leo calmed the fears, "Dude, you'll seriously be fine. I used to work with this chick that ate raw chicken all the time. Her parents were, like, hippies or something." Phew. Thanks Leo. If that girl ate raw chicken, I'll be OK. Right? BETSY!!!!

"Betsy, I ate raw chicken and it was an accident and I'm stupid but I didn't mean to and I don't want to get Salmonella poisoning but I'm afraid I will am I going to die?!" Enter Betsy, the true voice of compassionate reason. "Oh sweetie, it'll be fine. Even if you do get salmonella poisoning, my mom got it and she was fine. It'll be OK." Phew. Now that helps. "...but, why did you eat raw chicken?" Um. I just. Well, I... Then Betsy got a good laugh out of the whole deal. A good laugh. A good, looong laugh.

I won't be eating any raw chicken today, because today is a snow day!

Relief

This blog will be presented in bullet format.

• Betsy is cooking dinner, and I'm blogging. She's making potatoes, carrots, and peas to go with the roasted chicken. She's awesome. I'm hungry.
• We went to McLaren Falls yesterday, and spent the night there. The A+ students among you will remember the name, and pictures. Getting away is nice. McLaren Falls is lovely. And very still; a stillness which isn't interrupted by the wonderful sounds of the animal life about. In fact, I'd say it's enhanced. The ducks are super friendly. They come around, mostly wanting some food. One animal (part duck, part black swan maybe? A swuck?), seems to come around merely to say hello.
  
• The swuck earned the spot as my favorite. He's an odd duck, but he charmed his way into my heart. During our first visit to McLaren Falls, I was actually scared of him; he sometimes seemed a bit mad, crazed. I couldn't really get past his appearance. This time, he seemed to really enjoy our company, without wanting anything from us. This is an endearing trait in the most disheveled, awkward Swauck you've ever seen. At one point he stopped his incessant tearing and ripping at the grass, and simply sat down next to us. Stay tuned for some pictures, and you'll get a glimpse of this eccentric, friendly creature, caught on camera for the first time.
  
• I feel refreshed after our stay at McLaren Falls. The absence of cars, noise, the TV, the internet, distractions in general, and dishes- was much needed.
• Being alone with Betsy for 24 hours was even better.
  
• Substitute teaching is called relief teaching in New Zealand. I'm looking into being a relief teacher, because I may need some relief from washing dishes. At that point, you could call me a reliever. Baseball joke. Get it?
  
• Relating to previous bullet point, washing dishes is getting a bit old. Some shifts feel like they're never going to end. Most shifts.
  
• On the positive side, I really get along with my coworkers. I like them all, and I'd go so far as to call a couple of them my buddies.
  
• There is one "coworker" that I really don't like. At all. We'll go into that more once I'm not working at Sidetrack anymore. The internet, after all, isn't private.
• Well, I best get going. I'm the chicken cutter.

The Art of Washing Dishes

Washing dishes may seem pretty simple, and in many ways it is. However, when I wash dishes, it's an art. Here are some strategies and principles to keep in mind, should you ever find yourself washing dishes commercially.

Note: These principles/strategies apply primarily during busy business hours. If business is slow, just keep moving and you'll be fine.

1) Plan Ahead & Be Aware. Don't mindlessly pack them in. What's needed? If the cafe or restaurant is perilously low on cutlery, more plates won't help. You'll only know this by keeping an eye out. What sort of dish/cup is piling up? Look at the stacks of mugs/cups on the coffee maker. Anything look low? Ask the servers/barristas if they're running out of anything. Try to arrange your next load to accomplish the specific need at that time, if there is one. More simply, make maximum use of each rack load. If you don't fill a rack to capacity, you've effectively just shrank the rack.

2) Be organized. Being organized helps the staff more easily pile dishes before running back to the front, which in turn helps you pack dish racks. Plus, you may be called away to bus a few tables, run some food, or even run some drinks. If this happens, you need the dish pit to survive until you return. If it's messy when you leave, you may return to the aftermath of a tornado. Being organized is being prepared for anything.

3) Always have a cycle going. The limiting reagent (a shout out to chemistry buffs), or the thing limiting your speed, is the 4 minutes or so the dishwasher requires to wash a load. There's no getting around this 4 minutes. The best you can do then, is always have a load going. If the washer is idle for 30 seconds, then it basically took 4 minutes and 30 seconds for the load. Be ready with the next load when a rack is being washed. Number 2 helps with this.

4) Give everything a glance before inserting it into the rack. If I put a dish in the washer with a hunk of crusted... something on it, it may not come out clean. That's gonna cost me time on the tail end. You give it a cursory scrub on anything that's hard, and the dishwasher will to the rest.

5) Be a sharpshooter. Sometimes you have to wash something by hand. If the cafe needs a brown mug NOW, you don't have 4 minutes. Wash two by hand, and have a bunch more in the next load.

6) Have big items on standby. Sometimes load A will finish and you're not ready with load B. Remain calm. Some items, such as giant mixing bowls, won't fit in the washer with anything else; but they still have to be washed. Have those ready, and when this moment comes, throw it in. This is utilizing Numbers 1 & 2, to make sure you accomplish Number 3.

A further update on my back- it's feeling very well. My knees, on the other hand, are beginning to ache. It turns out that lifting with your legs, to save your back, comes at a cost. This is especially true if you squat far enough that your knees move in front of your feet (according to Betsy, and apparently the guy at 24 Hour Fitness in Denver). For clarification on this, imagine a line coming up out of the earth, through your feet, straight up. If your knees cross this line when you squat, it's a bit hard on them over time. Who knew dish washing was so hard on the body? I have been developing strategies for lightening the load on my back, so now I'll do the same for my knees. I'll come up with something.

Mt. Maunganui Chess Club

The Mt. Maunganui Chess Club meets every Monday night at the RSA. This most recent Monday, I stopped in to give it a look. Betsy, the loyal partner (as she would be referred to here), came with me, book in tow. The current book, on a side note, is Pride and Prejudice, by Jane Austen. Chess club was a breath of fresh air. The atmosphere was pleasant and mature, which isn't always a given where chess is being played. The competition was solid, which is always nice. In addition to these positive points, the RSA is walking distance from our house! Furthermore, the games being played were mostly without a clock, while a few were 25 minute games with a clock. I played three games, winning two. I had a fantastic time. I plan on being a regular at the club, while I probably won't bring along my buddy at future meeting. Reading for hours on end, while I play chess, isn't Betsy's first idea of how to spend an evening.

Good news, my back is feeling much better. I slept on the floor a couple of nights, applied Tiger Balm and "Deep Heat" pretty much nonstop, and slowed down a bit at work, giving my back a chance to heal. My efforts seem to have been successful. Work itself, on the other hand, is getting a bit monotonous. I can't say I'm too surprised. Washing dishes isn't quite as dynamic as teaching four math classes.

Betsy started her new job yesterday! I'm not going to spill the beans, but I will say we're both pleased with the circumstances of her employment. It close by and stress free, among other things. Stay tuned to her blog for more details.

Tiger Balm

I'm beaten, battered, and bruised. I'm on Team Sidetrack Cafe, and I am playing injured right now. I am a dish washing warrior. Really, I'm a dish washing victim. My upper back feels like I've been beaten with a baseball bat. It hurts. It really, really hurts. Two days ago I awoke in the morning to a pretty sore back. It seemed I had pulled a muscle just to the left and below my right shoulder blade. This occurs every four months or so, and isn't too remarkable generally. However, generally I'm not washing dishes for a living. I got a tip from a coworker that I should try a Chinese remedy called Tiger Balm. I found some after I got off work, and kept a steady supply of it on my back for the rest of that day, and the next. Then last night I awoke at 4:30 AM with a throbbing, tight ball of pain in the afflicted spot. It hurt a lot. Betsy had to rub the balm on for me, while I periodically moaned and grunted. I had get up at 7 AM for work, so I took two ibuprofen and went back to sleep.

Things weren't much better at 7 AM. Upon arriving at Sidetrack I told Marina that I wasn't sure I could make it through the day, but I would do my best. It was rough. My back hurt. A lot. The rigor of the work caused the pain intensify and spread to include the entire top one-third of my back. I felt like I'd been jumped by thugs whose attack focused on my upper back. At noon, after the major rush of the day, Marina told my I could go. Phew.

On the other hand, I do like my job. I have become friends with my coworkers, and generally don't mind going to work each day. I usually get up early, and at least one day this week caught a stunning sunrise over the ocean on my way in. Can't beat that. I have the mechanics of being a dish washer down. I know exactly what kind of plates, cups, cutlery, bowls, dishes, etc. can fit on each of the two types of dish racks. I know by heart how long the dish cycle is, and usually turn to retrieve the completed rack within a few seconds of its conclusion. My ears even seem to have tuned in to the sound of the dishwasher, so I usually notice the second it clicks off. I've even learned to plan ahead, calculating the best plan of attack based on the amount of space available to stack washed items, the demand for particular items at a given time (ie. how is our supply of brown cups?), which racks I have available, how much time is left in the current cycle, etc. I wouldn't say I've mastered it, but I'm damn good!

I made it to my weekend! I now have two consecutive days off. We also have some visitors headed our way, in the coming months. For those of you coming, we're very excited to see you!

More good news, Betsy got a new book. She picked up a virtually new copy of War and Peace at the Red Cross Thrift Store for $5. She's really excited to have found such a nice copy, and to read it. No, I'm not making this up; reading War and Peace does actually sound fun to my awesome, intelligent little girlfriend.

Ouch

Washing dishes is hard work. Week one is in the books, and my hands are living proof. Dry skin, cuts, gashes, nicks... can all be found on my paws. My back is another story. I'm bending at the knees, as my coworker Ria warned me to, so my lower back is fine. My upper back, on the other hand, is suffering. All those muscles one uses to lift heavy things out in front of them (think of lifting a 5 year-old out in front of you at eye level- 100 times a day) are getting far more use than they're accustomed to in my case. And they're hurting. And then there's that knob at the top of your spine, but at the bottom of your neck. The sharp, knifing pains start there after a few hours on the job. At that point in the day, dish washing is really hard work.

The new house is a pleasure to live in. Justin and Sarah are great roommates, internet access is quite a convenience, and we're pretty close to the grocery store, ocean, and Sidetrack Cafe. Justin is a sound and lighting engineer, and Sarah is a gymnast and gymnastic instructor. Stay tuned for pictures. The cute kitty here is called Adiva. Believe it or not, she's just as cute as Jazzy. Stay tuned for pictures of her too.

The "Sevens" are this week. And one of them is here in the Tauranga area. The "Sevens" is a rugby league in which each side plays with 7 on the field at a time. The Hamilton Chiefs will be dining at the Sidetrack Cafe all week. That will be a lot of dishes.

Betsy finished The Brothers Karamazov. About a week ago. She's read a Georgette Heyer book since.

Pictures, Round 2

New Zealand 2

Enjoy.

Happy Birthday Betsy on March 12th!!

Sidetrack Cafe

I got a job! I’m proud to be the new dishwasher at the Sidetrack Café. It’s a great job!! Can anyone else out there wear whatever they want to work? Okay, maybe some of you can. Can anyone else beat my absolutely nonexistent level of work related stress? If you can match those two, get ready for this: I can see the ocean from my “office.” Believe it or not, I’ve always somewhat enjoyed washing dishes. There’s a certain Zen Buddhist quality to it that I enjoy. In addition, this setup, my office if you will, is a dishwasher’s paradise! I’ve got all the little utensils, all the different types of sponges, plenty of hot water, a great big sink, a few different faucets offering different water stream options from different angles, and a super duper power dishwashing machine that cleans the racks of dishes I load--in about 3 minutes. What more could a guy ask for!? My copilot Ria is a cool seeming 27 year-old Kiwi chef. I feel very comfortable manning the controls alongside her. Am I really the copilot of the chef? Well, I’d say so; ever seen a chef work without clean pots, pans, and dishes? Also, the café is pretty small, so I feel like I’m right in the middle of the action. There’s no wall separating the kitchen from the register, tables, door, patio, street, and ocean(!). If I simply look to my right, I can see all of the above. I’m very excited about my job.

We’ve had some hairy weather here lately. During one 17 hour period, beginning at 2 AM and continuing until 7 PM that night, we were hammered by nonstop rain and wind. The expression “it was raining cats and dogs” would be appropriate. The rain and wind varied in intensity and direction. It was like we were stuck on a weather controlled movie set with a mad monkey at the helm. He was twisting those knobs all around, trying to wreck our little bach (“bach”, pronounced batch, as in bachelor pad; I know I’ve already introduced the bach, but a reminder seemed in order). We were stuck inside all day, wondering “Is this normal?” Turns out it is not. Ron said one fellow he knows hasn’t seen weather like that, for that long, in the 7 years he’s lived here.

Speaking of the bach, the deal just got a little less sweet. Pushing past one month, we’re now considered “permanent” residents. Permanent residents pay NZ $130/week. I definitely grew spoiled during the three weeks we lived for free. We’re considering other options now, as colder weather is approaching. Today we’re looking at a flat listed in the paper.

Rock Chalk Jayhawk

My apologies to the Jayhawk faithful out there if I may have misspelled the famed KU motto; I am not sure if it is “Rock Chock” or “Rock Chalk”.

I made a deposit at BNZ this morning, only to discover in conversation with the teller that her husband grew up in Kansas, and is KU alum. Go figure. Small world. She mentioned that he worked around the corner at “The Naked Grape”, so I wandered over. I wasn’t sure which one he was, but it didn’t end up mattering. Tim came walking out from behind the bar as soon as he saw my “Kansas” shirt. We congratulated one another on last year’s Jayhawk sporting successes. He had to get back to work, but told me to stop by to chat. Maybe a fellow Jayhawk can give me a job?

Yes, I’m still looking for work. Betsy is toiling away at the Oceanside Café, a job she wishes she hadn’t found, and I’m waiting for the Bay of Plenty Times to hit the newsstands so I can comb through the “Situations Vacant” section one more time. Luigi, at an Italian restaurant named Volare, was ready to hire me, but a fulltime job working nights wasn’t what the doctor ordered. Now I’ve got my fingers crossed that I’ll hear from Video Ezy; or Woolworths, our grocery store of choice; or Bay City Cinemas, where we saw Doubt; or Gusto’s, a local café I’ve been hounding for a job.

Fletcher is the cook at Gusto’s, and JZ is a waitress. Fletcher isn’t a very good chess player, but knows the area pretty well. He was born and raised in Te Puke, a very nearby town, just like his parents. He has worked at Gusto’s for two years, and was waiting for his girlfriend to get off work when we played a game of chess. JZ’s real name is Jazzman, but “she likes to be called JZ”, according to Fletcher. Alicia is one of the managers, and she has my CV, but doesn’t seem to keen on hiring me. I asked JZ to put in a good word for me.

Patricia at the trailer park continues to feed Betsy and me. Last night it was homemade cornbread, and watermelon & avocado ice cream. The night before it was vegetable frittata. A few nights before that it was beef and potato pie. Yum! Alex and Tioriori (T for short) have fallen in love with having us design and time races for them. It works out pretty well for us; we just sit there and tire the little buggers out! Ron is still my favorite neighbor. He’s just a hell of a nice guy, very friendly, plays with his grandkids, asks how we’re doing, how the job is going (when speaking to Betsy of course), how our day was. I like that guy. I think I might pack him up and bring him back with us.

Perhaps my favorite moment of the last week or so was the skateboarder I had the pleasure of watching on the boardwalk, outside Betsy’s place of work. I was killing a few minutes, waiting for Betsy to get off work, when my attention was drawn to a young boy eating an ice cream cone. He was a bit of an awkward kid, 10 years old or so, wearing pretty thick glasses, all arms and legs. He was outfitted in the coolest skateboard gear, tie-dye hat and all, from the local Walmart (or equivalent) back home, in the size they had that was closest to his own -not a perfect fit, but close enough. He won me over when he broke off bits of his cone and fed them to the pigeons (which are much more attractive here than back home, by the way). It was all the more endearing when some of these pieces ended up stuck to his own shirt. But the show was just beginning. It was time to get in some skateboard practice. Some things became apparent rather quickly. One, this kid meant business. Two, he had definitely watched some skateboarders on TV, or maybe at the local skate park, or maybe he even read a book from the local library (or perhaps that’s just what I would do if I wanted to learn to skateboard), and he had been practicing the moves. Three, he unfortunately wasn’t blessed with heaps of natural athleticism. Four, number three wasn’t going to stop him.

He had a few favorite moves. He knew how to hold the board at his side, and in one semi-fluid motion drop the board and hop on with a running start. We’re off. He also knew how to change direction, by lifting the front wheels off the ground and twirling as much as 180 degrees. This maneuver was a bit less ingrained in his muscle memory. Every few twirls he would wobble a bit on his way around, carefully regaining his balance while pointing roughly in the intended direction. He was cool though, smooth, confident. He could also stop, and stomp the back of the board, coolly propelling the front up into his waiting hands. It’s important to be able to execute this process, as the boardwalk is a busy place. Off again, he’d scope out some space to practice his specialty; the jump. “Dad. Dad! Watch. Dad watch!” He knew that you’re supposed to position your feet toward the back of the board, your weight on the balls of your feet, heels hanging off. Crouch low. Steady... This could be good… jump! Not quite. He’s still practicing. This is a new move. The jump is complicated. You’re got to get both feet on the board when you come down. Sometimes you only get one on there, or one and the wrong part of the other. If you don’t, sometimes you end up doing the splits, with the inevitable slow motion landing on your bum. That’s okay, this kid was tough. He would get right back up, brush himself off, and execute the running start maneuver. There’s room. “Dad, watch me again. Dad!” Feet back, crouch. Steady. Go. Almost. You’ve also have to get the skateboard to cooperate. Sometimes the darn thing has a mind of its own and speeds off just when it’s go-time and you achieve liftoff. When that happens your feet tend to chase the board and you end up on your belly. This can include a bump on the elbow, which isn’t equipped with the same padding as the bum. Retrieve the board, nurse the elbow. “Dad. My elbow. I think it’s okay.” We’re off… Dad’s already watching this time. Feet back, steady. Crouch. Steady. Jump! Liftoff! The front of the board soars, a foot in the air. The back of the board, well not exactly a foot in the air. Let’s say closer to… the thickness of the ruler. But we’re airborne! The board is still in position, beneath the skater. Touchdown! Both feet. Smooth as silk. A quick glance toward dad. He saw. A quick glance at a passerby. They saw too! Chest out, arms hovering further from his side than normal. Standing tall. The superhero pose. 180 degree spin! Seamless. Did the passerby see that!? If not, it’s okay. He’s focused again. The look on his face? Through his thick glasses, “Yeah, that was my jump. I make that jump all the time.” Just another day at the office. For a superhero.

Feeling Right at Home

We remain in Tauranga. Actually, we’re closer to Mt. Manganui. Although we may be living in Papamoa. However you slice it, we’re living out of our car in the increasingly friendly trailer/camper park we’ve been staying at. Increasingly? you ask, if you’ve been following along. Yes, increasingly.

Ray introduced himself yesterday. He a nice fellow, in his 60’s, with a great big barrel chest. Side note coming… I just had to mention his chest, because it’s ridiculously large for a man his age. It must be genetic, or he’s on steroids and it’s all going to his chest. Moving on… Ray is a friendly guy. And he’s interesting, for reasons that go beyond his chest. He holds two patents in NZ, and he’s got the knowledge of New Zealand Patent Law to back it up (Note to “cult” members: I don’t think he’s a Daryl Turner). He’s attempted other patents, but has been thwarted in one way or another. He’s quite a happy guy, and seemed pleased to have someone to talk to about his "ideas". Some of them he couldn’t reveal, because he’s learned you have to keep your ideas close to the chest. However, he did reel off a couple of ways Betsy and I could make money from Colorado, after having been to NZ. He’s got “an entrepreneurial mind”, and a really “good imagination.” He’s got an engineering background, is pretty good with computers, and owned an automotive business in the 80’s. He’s gonna take a look at our radiator a bit later. He also offered his shed, which has a lock on it, if we need a place to put some things while we’re here. My instinct is to be suspicious of the guy, but I’m learning that things work a bit differently here. He’s lived in the Beach Grove Park for a couple of years now. Most of the time he's sitting on his porch, or drinking tea, or feeding his cat. After our initial conversation yesterday, he returned later in the day with some information on aspects of fruit picking we had discussed. He had printed out some sheets with phone numbers and information we might find useful.

Patricia lives across the way. She’s from America, and her son lives in Boulder, CO; small world. She’s the one who is always cooking, and it turns out she’s not so crazy. She just likes to cook, and gives most of the food away to other residents. Yesterday evening she brought us some soup she had made. Later she took some over to a Japanese cyclist that was passing through, and brought him a sandwich to go with the soup. She left America because she was burnt out after a few decades as a nurse, and wanted to get away from the constant stress. I wonder whether she was talking about nursing, or being an American? Now she cooks because it’s relaxing, and she can stop to take a break whenever she feels like it. She told Betsy most of this during a kitchen chat.

Rochelle runs the grounds at Beach Grove. She approached us yesterday with a suggestion. “Why keep paying for a site when Trev and Angie offered yous their bach?” We looked at her, stunned. “Yous might as well park up front, or next to their bach, and quit paying” for an expensive parking spot. “Parking isn’t even that expensive in Auckland!” she left us with. Gob smacked was the phrase Betsy used to describe our reaction. Did the manager of this place just come up and suggest we stop paying? By golly, I believe she did. We’ll ring Trev and Angie to make sure they’re comfortable with the arrangement, and then start living for a bit less.

We’re still looking for work, and beginning to have a bit of success. Betsy has a trial today, and possibly another later today. A trial? Why bother with a job interview when you can just give an applicant a trial run; another example of New Zealand’s practical thinking. I have a few applications pending, and am feeling okay about my chances.

Suffice to say, we’re feeling pretty good about things.

Betsy's Blog

For those interested, here is the address of Betsy's blog:

http://www.clematisaddisonii.blogspot.com/

She's a good writer; enjoy!

Humanity Has a Chance

The rest of the world could learn a thing or two from the Kiwis.

We're liking our new campsite. A lot. It would probably be a bit more accurate to call it a trailer park. Or perhaps a holiday (Kiwi for vacation) trailer park. Then again, it's not exactly a holiday for everyone there; one tenant is going on 17 years. They're not alone, as many of our neighbors call this park home. Nevertheless, most of the tenants, part time and otherwise, are Kiwis. And they are making a believer out of me.

When strangers are nice to me, I'm a bit suspicious; "What do you want? What are you after?" So when "Dan the Man" chatted with us two nights ago, I thought he may have been hitting on Betsy. "What are you after?" In the end, he wanted nothing from us, and even offered us a place to stay should we ever make our way to Rotorua. Hmm. I'm still an American though, humanity is not getting off that easy. I also found it strange when a guy two trailers down, named Paul, brought us two lawn chairs to sit on. He said sitting on the dirt would give us piles, so we should just keep these chairs that he didn't need anyway. Who are these people? Then he brought us a little rolling table. "You can set your chips on this!" he joked. I was eating salsa flavored chips at the time (yum!). Does he want something from us too? Hmm. I'm starting to believe; I'm starting to take Kiwis at their word. I'm starting to think they are this strange breed of homo sapien that thinks it is their duty to be kind to perfect strangers. Time will tell. I need more data. Later that evening Betsy and I had dinner in our new chairs. Toward the end of dinner, a car pulled by our site and stopped. A man inside waved me over. "Where do you sleep?" Oh, we've got this great station wagon see, and this mattress in the back makes a great bed... "We've got a spare bed in the trailer. There's no point in you two sleeping out here." This was how we met Treav, as in Treavor. "You're welcome to use the place whenever you like." Huh? Use your place? What do you want? Is this where you say you just need my credit card number? Treav turned off the engine and got out to explain. Meanwhile, Angie went inside to get us a pair of keys to the place. "Just come in whenever you like. Actually, come on in right now. We'll show you the spare bed. There's also a DVD player you can use..." Goodness gracious. Betsy and I laughed with humility, embarassment, disbelief. "You'll have to excuse us," I said, "we're not used to this kind of raw generosity." Sure enough, they were just being that generous. Today when they left, to head back to their home, they instructed us that it made no sense for their trailer to "just sit there." We are to keep the key, and use their "bach" (holiday home). We are to sleep in the spare bed, use the DVD player, or "just get out of the sun." To be clear: they left us a key to their vacation home, to use at our discretion, when we're not sitting in our lawn chairs, or at Dan's house in Rotorua.

I'm humbled by these people. Maybe humanity has a chance after all. We're thinking of staying in Tauranga, at the Beachgrove Holiday Park, for awhile. If we stay long enough, I'm thinking maybe someone will give us a boat.

Pictures

Finally put up some pictures. Enjoy.

New Zealand 1

A Broken Record

Hello again. Today finds us in a nice little town called Tauranga, after a semi-long day of driving. Yes, still driving on the left side of the road. It's getting to be much more natural, although I'm still getting used to the speeds. I cannot shake the feeling, when I see the speed limit is 100, that it is really fast! Of course it's not, because 100 is 100 kilometers per hour (100 km/hr), which is much slower than 100 m/h. I'm not sure what the conversion is, and I don't feel like looking it up. I think it would be something around 65 m/h. Eric, a little help here?

The driving continues to be interesting in other ways too. For starters, it's beautiful here! Simply driving from one town to the next often takes you through a forest, then rolling hills of lush green life, then a flat rural scene that could be Ohio, then a beautiful coastal view, then to a massive hilltop "scenic stop" that looks back, stunningly, across all 4 landscapes. It becomes like a broken record inside our Capella; "Wow, that is just so beautiful." Of course, the beauty is a welcome distraction from the ridiculously winding roads. It often seems as if the road we're on was planned by a child scribbling on a map. Or, perhaps a theme park artist drew them up. Either way, I've been a tad queasy more than once.

Our campsites have been gorgeous! Our first site was about 30 yards from the water. The ocean! Our second faced a wall plant life that could have been pulled straight from the Congo, or some junge in South America. Of course, this site too was close enough to the ocean that we could hear that waves as we went to bed. Our latest site was perhaps the most beautiful yet. The water (yes, the ocean!) was 30 yeads in front of us, while behind us was another wall of plant life. In this case it was a nature preserve, a forest on the Coromandel Peninsula. In the evening Betsy and I went for a walk on a trail in this forest, during which we repeatedly remarked how this walk alone was worth the price of admission at the site. We saw the a massive tree, the biggest I have seen in my life.

This country is truly spectacular, and we've only just begun. Oh yeah, and we went to Cathederal Cove, my favorite place from my first visit to NZ! I'm wiped out after a long day of driving, so I'll have to cover that another day! Don't let me forget, because it was awe inspiring; the most beautiful place I've ever seen on this planet.

Super Bowl Monday

Excerpt from an email to my mom:

Well, we're heading to sleep somewhere a bit more peaceful tonight. We're both really excited. We won't miss the kitchen at our former hostel, which was home to cockroaches and quite a few flies. Yuck. I bet you love the thought of that huh? The kitchen also had this really loud fan that disturbed any attempt at conversation. I don't have great ears anyway, so the fan particularly bothered me.

The place we found to park ended up being a great deal! For two whole days, totally safe, very close, in downtown Auckland: only 10 bucks. Wow. We haven't yet ventured out to the left side of the road today, but later we'll head to a little place called Tekapune (I think) to look for somewhere to camp. Don't worry, we'll be smart and safe.

Super Bowl Monday is coming up. Yep, it's on Monday for us! I think we're gonna try to catch it at a bar, since we'll still be near Auckland. We have to stick around until Monday to run a couple of errands, so it will work out.

Today we bought a duvet and duvet cover, because Betsy wanted to make sure we slept like civilized people - even if we do sleep in the car. We bought it at a pretty good price, at a store called The Warehouse. We also bought some sweets, perhaps more than our budget should allow! Oh well, we've got to keep our tummies happy!

End excerpt

New Zealand is very practical is some nifty little ways. For example, when parking in a parking garage, you may tear off a little slip, smaller than but similar to a post-it note, near the elvator that has your parking spot's level/location on it. Just a little slip, but so helpful! I'll see if I can remember to note other examples as our travels continue.

Driving on the Left Side

An excerpt from an email to my sister Courtney, with added comments in brackets:

Things are good here, if a bit crazy. We bought a car today! After evaluating our options in relation to our desires, we decided that buying a car we could sleep in was a smart move. We paid NZ$ 1850 for it. It's a Mazda, and the same color as the little Mazda I drove in high school (and called Betsy!). We're very excited, and a bit in shock. This development means we can head off in a day or two, look for work picking fruit -or something similar- to settle in even more. I'm ready to leave Auckland.

We also opened a bank account, which I believe I mentioned in my blog. Along the same lines, we bought a phone. We're on a plan, have a SIM card, and have a number. We were allowed some input on the number, and Betsy couldn't care less, so I chose 3212 as the last four numbers. 32 was Sandy Koufax's old number, and the length baseball bat I prefer. 12 is basically my favorite number, the jersey number I wore, and Wade Boggs' number when he played for the Yanks. I'm sure these details are very important to you. Getting back on track... we have a phone! Craziness. I'm starting to feel like we live here. These major steps -car, bank account, phone- are driving the point home. I'm also starting to feel poor, as our money dwindles.

Not only did we buy a car, but I drove it today... on the left side of the road! ...from the right side of the car! ...with the turn signal on the right side of the steering wheel ...in downtown Auckland! It was totally unnatural [discombobulating]. I kept hugging the left side of the lane, because of my instinct to orient myself a small distance from that side of the lane. When the steering wheel is on the left side of the car, this works! It was nuts. On top of all this, we had no idea where to park. Betsy had a map, but had no idea where to direct me; the blind, leading the blind, driving on the left side of the road. After a bit, I pulled into a parking garage beneath the Sky complex, which is a bit like the Denver Pavilions downtown. It ended up doing the job quite well, as parking is only $NZ 10/day on weekends. Phew! What a hilarious, nerve wrecking, fiasco.

I got a haircut! An actual, barbershop, sit in the chair, haircut. I believe it is the first one of its kind in about 5 years or so [generally cut my own hair]. Betsy thinks it looks pretty nice, and I'm pleased with the result. The catch, if there is one, is that it was free. It's one of those shops for barbers in training, so they advertise at hostels. My barber was a nice old man, and I was surprised when he confirmed that he is in training.

Devonport

Hello my people.

Betsy and I are now the proud owners of a bank account at the Bank of New Zealand, or BNZ. I am quite pleased about this development, as it means I no longer have large amounts of cash to watch over. A nice young gentleman named Declan opened the account for us. Having worked at a bank for a while, I know how these things typically go; Declan was a delight. A sweet, genuine young guy, he walked us through our options quite cleanly, never attempting to… steal our money. He alerted us to common theft methods in NZ, such as devices placed over ATM card slots to record card data, and how to avoid them; make sure you see a green light just below the slot. Experience number 1 at a NZ bank: a success. Good work Declan.

We saw Gran Torrino. It was typical Eastwood (in my opinion), crisp and clean, no unnecessary characters, good dialogue, no fairy tale ending, beauty and pain, smart, well written, plenty of heart. Seeing it in NZ was interesting. Seating was “allocated” (assigned). As a result, the mostly empty theatre was home to a bunch of strangers, bunched together. Also of note was the absence of pre-show theatrics, if you will. No commercials, no ads, only 3 previews.

Betsy and I also now have IRD numbers. IRD = Internal Revenue Department. You want to work? You need an IRD number.

A ten-minute ferry ride across the bay, and we were out of the city. Thank goodness. I’m not a huge fan of big cities, even in NZ. Devonport was a delight. It was a cute little town with houses you dream of living in, and gardens Betsy dreams of tending. One such house/garden had a pretty sweet tree house in the front yard. A tree house in the front yard? Only in NZ. I took a picture of it for Blake (my nephew) Devonport is small, but not tiny. I could live in a town like this… if I could find one in the U.S. (breathe easy Court). It was fantastic. In the middle of town is a gigantic hill that offers 360-degree views of the Auckland area. We scaled the hill, and feasted our eyes on the gorgeousness. Wow.

Oh yeah, and we went to the beach. Our first beach outing went with the slow, systematic approach to entering what I consider to be cold water. Today, I went with the kamikaze approach. In both cases I was very cold, and immediately retreated to the beach. As I told Betsy, I’m working up to it.

The Brothers Karamazov

Betsy is on page 21 of The Brothers Karamazov. She brought it along because it will take her forever to read (although it will surely be a shorter "forever" than it would be for most people), and she feels comfortable leaving it behind when she finishes it. Betsy is the real deal; page 21, The Brothers Karamazov.

We have relocated to a cheaper hostel. It is a block away from the Auckland City Library, where we have sniffed out free internet access. We simply opened a temporary "Akozone account," and here I am blogging free of charge. Also a block away is a gigantic, labyrinthine Borders book store. I believe it is four levels in all, with multiple sub-levels, one of which houses a Gloria Jean's Coffee. While traversing levels one may find themselves taking the stairs, escalator, or lift (Kiwi for elevator). The layout vaguely resembles that of a playhouse at most McDonald's, which is appropriate if one thinks of a bookstore as a grownup's playground, as I do. Of course, next to Borders is an oversized movie theatre. No, I'm not making this up.

There's a really loud typer a few computers away. She is thwacking away at the keys, and seems particularly angry at the space bar.

"Even the road work is tidy!"

We made it! It's great to be back.

We're sitting in a cafe called "Esquires" that offers an hour of internet access with any purchase. Our purchase was two bacon and egg sandwiches. We've become internet hounds, sniffing out free net time wherever we can. We just met a very nice couple named Matt and Louise. Matt is a Kiwi, Louise is from England. "You guys visiting?" they asked us. They proceeded to answer all of our questions, give us numerous useful web addresses, even the name and number of a man that may be able to get Betsy a job on a dolphin tour boat of some kind. Kiwi's rule, just as I remember. Very friendly folks.

New Zealand is clean. As Betsy said on the bus ride into Auckland from the airport, "Even the road work is tidy!"