Poo pots and crampons

So I completely forgot to mention that I went to fish and chips for the first time at Lyttleton! It was fried... pretty nasty but great at the same time.

So that's that.

I went to the Arts Centre Historical Museum in Christchurch. So New Zealand has the only alpine parrot (the Kea; mean little mothers, I saw a bunch up at Temple Basin. They're known to take out the rubber seal around the windows of cars and go through your stuff. I saw one go into someones pack, find the food, take it out, and devour it. It also has the really awkward call that kind of sounds like the dilophosaurio from Jurassic Park (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=22ztVTfOeSA). Still, an alpine parrot=freaking cool.) New Zealand also has the only flightless parrot (the Kakapo) along with a ton of other flightless birds. The only ones left, though, are the ones the Maori, western Europeans, and Opossums didn't eat.

Another update for this past week, I got a bike! It's awesome, road bike, rack already attached. Second hand along with a helmet, LED light, and a lock for $150 NZ (which is like $110 US). Sick! Now I can actually get around.
Well, that's actually up to debate. The people here are super nice (scary nice) but it seems that it all disappears as soon as they sit behind the wheel. Pedestrians are simple a nuisance to be scared off by hitting the gas when they attempt to pass. Bikers are also hardly appreciated. We aren't exactly allowed to switch lanes, so a right turn (since everyone drives on the left side) is a real problem. Have to somehow cross two lines of traffic on a green light. On the last right turn I had to make coming back from the bikeshop, I decided I would cross the street when no cars were around and ride on the wrong side of traffic for just a bit. I saw a bus coming at me, so I sped up, facing him head on. The tension built, I was staring down the driver, speeding on my bike, while the bus was coming closer and closer to the curb. I lost. He could have slowed a millisecond and I would've scooched by! Stupid New Zealand drivers.
One more culture shock: it's not typical to hold doors for people here. I keep catching myself doing it and people kind of look at me strange. They also don't do the hurry up before the person who's holding the door stops holding it, which makes it even more awkward.

On Wednesday, after the Tramping Club meeting, some of us made the bad decision to go to town. There's a small cobblestone street called Sol Square just packed with the coolest bars. The one we went to had couches outside of it with a few fires going; inside it was low-lighting, funny saying, awesome bartenders, and mulled wine. SO that was pretty cool. Shouldn't I be doing schoolwork?
Thursday night Sophie started on my dreads... yeah.
It was also a bit of a party at Sophie's place. Ivana brought her Slovakian plum vodka (Slivovica). At the Foundry (the campus bar) they had CUBA Jib. This would definitely not happen in Binghamton. They built a snow ramp and held a boarding/skiing jumping competition. We didn't exactly get in... people were waiting outside the bar for hours, so we stood there for 20 min and left.
Over the weekend, I went to Snowcraft with the Tramping Club. It was the first time I've walked with a pack that heavy since I was 13, so it was a bit... embarrassing. Our instructor was a guy named Faulka (said Volka) from Germany who casually told us that his mate and him were planning a run... from the east coast of New Zealand to the west. We walked past the cabins at Temple Basin to a river over a peak where we set up camp. I brought my amazing $25 (NZ) tent. Pretty sure we were the butt of half the jokes told that night. Whatever, at least it's a shelter. And as soon as the sun sets, you want a shelter. The temperature drops from 70F to 10F. I was in my sleeping bag by 4:30pm and only got out of it around 7:30 the next morning.
The actual instruction consisted of how to use an ice ax, crampons, and how to self arrest. Self arresting was a blast. You basically slide down the snowy mountain like a penguin and stop yourself with the ice ax when you feel like your going too fast. We were going on our butts, stomachs, on our backs head first. Sooo much fun.
The van ride back had the best stopover ever: a huge ice cream scoop and hot chocolate became my dinner. We got back pretty late, but I still met up with Mark. He took me up to Port Hills to look down at Christchurch all lit up at night. It was beautiful and the best end to a wonderful weekend.
Sophie finished my dreads yesterday... yeah.

Mark ran over a dog.

Of Lambs and Possums

This blog update is coming a bit soon after the last one, but that's because I forgot to mention some stuff.
First off, at LAX I stared down this dude that seemed oddly familiar, but I just couldn't put my finger on it. So instead I stared until my mind slowly sorted out that it was that black actor from Psych Dule Hill. I moved on after he gave me a look that implied "If you try to kill me, I have backup."
Other than that, I thought I would also give a bit of a run down on Kiwi vocabulary:
Lesson one: if you don't understand what a word means, try to think of words that start with the one uttered and see if that makes sense
uni= university
vege= vegetables
maky doodle (or something like that)=McDonald's
Lesson two: smile, nod, they probably don't understand how strange what they're saying it
on the piss=getting/ going to get drunk
pissy=drunk
tea=dinner
tally ho=seriously, they say this, its hilarious. sometimes they just say "ho" at the end of a phrase as a sign their making sure you understood what they said. "so you're going to see Margret ho?"
mean=awesome
gummies=gumboots=rainboots
have a root=have sex
dairy=deli
The lessons will continue, hold on to your socks for more.

Anyways, yesterday I went for a bit of a walk. My friend and I hadn't quite slept because a few of us were enjoying ourselves in my common room till bright and early. So we went around 6 30 and picked up another mate and took a bus to Sumner, a cute town on the shore right at the edge of a bit of a peninsula. From there we found a hike over to Taylors Mistake, an even smaller town where everyone surfs, and then took a hike out to Godley Head. On top of the head, there were bathrooms and I decided to use one. Walking in, though, I jumped back out. My first encounter with a possum! Ugly little things they are. It was curled up into a ball, looked like it was preparing to die. The rest of the walk was mostly over sheep pasture, which was actually pretty cool. It seemed to be lamb season because we saw so many little ones and, the real clue to that, is we saw one being born! It was amazing! I really can't believe I got to witness that. We wrapped up our walk around the peninsula when we got to Lyttleton, a coastal town directly across from Sumner, where we started. It was really warm on top of everything so it ended up being a really good day. I came home and I slept for 11 hours.

'Till next time.

Once were Warriors

I've been trying to find a free second to write on this blog, but most of them have been spent sleeping. Well I finally got some good sleep last night (after a lovely meal made by my own personal French cook - thank you Catfish) and am ready to write what will quite possibly turn into a longer post than anyone would be willing to read. Well here goes: My first week in New Zealand.

I had three planes to catch on my 33 hour trip overseas. The first was from JFK on Virgin America. I can't quite call it a flight though. Upon boarding your eye must immediately adjust to the opaque purple plexi glass and neon blue and purple lighting. Patent leather seats were each equipped with a Mac-white screen on the back of each and a remote control that has a game comptroller on the reverse. I suppressed my visions of Night at the Roxbury.
Little did I know that EACH flight I'd be on had such a screen (though not the leather seats or the lighting). As a result I cannot count the amount of movies and TV series I saw. Who has time to read when Fantastic Mr. Fox is on call?

My arrival to the country proceeded relatively uneventfully. My room at the Ilam dorms is hugs, and a single. As soon as I start unpacking my things, my flatmate walks in and introduces himself. His name is Catfish, from France. There are other people that live in the dorm (3 others) including an RA, but I never really see them… ever.

The next day was the semi-final between Netherlands and Uruguay in the World Cup and I watched it at 6 am local time. A bit later was the international orientation. They went through the usual stuff: safety, local slang, class stuff, opportunities. Unlike the usual stuff, though, every single presenter let us know how much of a drinking culture New Zealand. [For my observations of this culture, please refer to Facebook.] The policeman who spoke – the only one on the entire campus btw – was probably the funniest. He was the perfect frame of a policeman: giant rugby player with the best English accent saying things like “It’s fine if you drink, just don’t be an idiot.”

Lunch at orientation was catered… seriously catered. They had a full buffet including huge slabs of lamb and beef and about 8 vegetarian options. Then they went around and collected everyone’s ceramic dishes – no paper plates here. I met lots of people during lunch, including a pair of German friends, both named Felix.

The next morning, another semi, this time Germany and Spain. A couple of guys – Brian from Philly and Mo, a local – and I head down to a bar to watch the second half. The bar is called the Holy Grail and it is soo cool. It has a huge screen and the whole bar is three floors, partially in stadium seating. It probably used to be a cinema, but anyway it is the perfect place to watch a game. There are people that are definitely there from the night before. I guess it is a drinking culture. We’re going back to this place for the final.

Brian was also the guy responsible for my first lovely weekend in New Zealand. He told me about a bit of a ski trip in the mountains headed by the SnowSports club of UC. Well, this was just crazy. At 7:30 am we all pile into cars and a van and head out to the mountain, Temple Basin. The club has their own cabin up there. About four hours later, we get out of the van and load all the stuff in it in a basket attached to a lift that carts our stuff up to the cabin. For us it is about a 40 minute hike up the mountain with commanding views of bare snow-capped mountains.

There isn’t much snow to ski on, as you can see from the photos, but some people do anyway. It’s another 30 minute hike from the cabin to the only open slope that people were doing with equipment. And this wasn’t a skip and jump kind of trail either. After that it’s a perpetually broken t-bar lift (no chairlifts here).Anyway, I decided not to go skiing. Brian, another American Luke (or Jake the Mus as it turned into later), and I went for a hike instead. We joined a group of five Kiwi girls on our way up. So we all went over one ridge, then another, then a third, found a lake, and decided to turn around and go down. Except the way we came now looked boring, but that valley down there looks like fun. We can sit on our butts and ride our way down!

Yea… so that’s what we did. And it was a blast! Clambering over rocks, sliding down like penguins, searching for our next step, hoping that the cabin will eventually appear in our line of view. Well we did so for a bit, but then stumbled across a valley… a very deep and steep valley. It was possible to climb down, but the sun was setting kind of quick and it may not be such a great idea. So up we go over another ridge and one more after that, doing some nice clambering to do so and eventually find a relatively easier way down with the cabin in our view. I was soaked and tired and thrilled to be alive (as in the loving life way, not the almost died way).

As soon as people got back off the slopes they started drinking. It was quite funny to watch. I am not a huge drinker, so that’s mostly what I did: watch. I met quite a bit of people including Archie, Cam, Joanne, Nina, Julie, Mark, and others. Drinking games galore, boarding down the stairs (not a smart endeavor), and 65 year old men doing funnels (no freaking joke). It’s enough to say that I woke up at 9 and there were people still drinking. Luke was drinking for an entire 24 hours: 3pm to 3pm the next day. *Slapping the goon= hitting the sack from a box of wine before taking a sip* By 11am, Luke was being called Jake the Mus, a reference to a popular NZ movie Once were Warriors that’s akin to a Tarantino flick: family violence and, hell, violence in general. Luke is the exact opposite of Jake, skinny, wouldn’t hurt a fly. Thus the name stuck.

The rest of this week was a series of parties. On Monday I did my first spin class and then we went out for a beer at the Foundry, the bar on campus. It turned into a bit of a late night, but it was so worth it. On Tuesday I got worked out by GI Joe in class called circuit express and my personal French cook made us a steak dinner. Wednesday was Big Gary’s Palooza, a huge party (a couple of hundred people) endemic to one house next to Big Gary’s Fish and Chips, inherited by whoever moves into it. Four huge buckets of drink were in the middle of their front lawn. They are sold as detergent because it’s illegal to sell alcohol in quantities that big. And I witnessed my first couchfire, a popular pastime in this part of the world. After the party, we headed over to the Foundry once again and had a big dance party. Finally, home.

I may stay forever.

ps - check fb for pictures; the blogs not letting me post any