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Thought of the Day 31-May-2015: Oh, To Be Young Again

Today is one of those days where I simply feel overcome with gratitude. Despite (or perhaps inspired by) a fairly narly hangover, I reflect on yesterday's adventure with my two future flatmates with such delighted sentiments that I'm going to straight-up recount the episode. Not to gloat about how happy I am in New Zealand with my new friends, but to appreciate it; knowing how far I've come, both literally and figuratively, to get to this fun-filled niche of my life. Full disclosure, it was a tried and true night of shenanigans. 

Westpac Stadium, venue for the 2015 FIFA World Cup Games in Wellington. Affectionately know as 'The Cake Tin' by the locals.

Our initial purpose in going to Wellington was to watch a couple of the 2015 FIFA World Cup Football Games taking place throughout New Zealand over the next couple of months. My co-workers, friends, and flatmates in T minus 1 week are quite keen on Football, playing on leagues themselves, and I love big sports events in general, with the exception of American Football. I was also happy to go and see a sport that I could actually understand. Though this assessment will rile the Kiwis, the other popular NZ sports utterly confuse me: Rugby, a homo-erotic version of American Football without all the padding and hedonistic tackling; and Cricket, Baseballs lazier brother that can last as long as a Quidditch match. After discussing it, we decided to stay in Wellington after the game to enjoy a night of not-so-well-mannered-frivolity by checking out the crazy Saturday night scene on Courtney Place.

Game 1: Argentina Vs Panama, 2-2

The games were really exciting and fun despite the notoriously awful Wellington weather, which also did not disappoint. It was wicked cold and windy, and it rained on and off the entire 4 hours. Yet these trifles were nothing that couldn't be overcome by 5 layers of clothing, relocating to a covered section, electric hand warmers, lattes, hot chips, pulled pork sandwiches, constant cheering and TS's homemade bourbon. Both games were ties, and the level of sport was incredible to watch. It was also really nice to not give two shits who won or lost because I had no vested interest in any particular team. Though I'll admit, the Austrian team was especially European and gorgeous.

The happy Flatmates, me, DC and TS. Brrrrr, but Yay! 

By the time we walked to the hostel on Courtney Place and checked in it was 10pm and Wellington was starting to come alive. The Boys downed a beer while I made a feeble attempt to counteract my hat hair and put on my sexy dancing boots. We started out the night at a great little Italian eatery where TS treated me to the most delicious Sauvignon Blanc and  Portobello pizza I've ever had to celebrate the submittal of my Permanent Resident Visa application. Though DC wasn't feeling well, he rallied and went to the first bar with us, TS's choice; some place famous for it's selection of microbrew's on tap. I got a NA spicy ginger beer, needing a small respite from alcohol if I was going to last the night. As a side note, if I ever leave NZ, I'm importing ginger beer to where ever I go; it's delicious. I don't even care that they don't sell diet ginger beer!!

The next place was my choice, and as one might guess, I wanted to DANCE! I love nothing so much as dancing. We went into the first place playing a good song, and I was a bit disappointed when the bouncer indicated he did not want to check my ID. Since it was my shout I went to the bar to get us all drinks. A guy who turned out to be a Russian-born Kiwi asked me what I was drinking and I told him I didn't know yet since I hadn't ordered. I got something called a Ginger Mule (noticing a theme here?), which basically tasted like a gingered mojito (yum!). That guy must have gotten a few too many Vodka and Red Bulls, because when he came up to me on the dance floor a bit later he put one in my hand. I danced with him for awhile but decided to meander over to TS since the Russian spilt most of his drink all over me while we were dancing.  TS and I danced for a long time, having tons of fun and intermittently waving to DC who was happily bobbing around a table, watching our stuff. He was also being persuaded by a chick, but though I enthusiastically told him to 'go get it' he opted to remain where he was, haha. Meanwhile, TS and I were making up a move we will hence-forth refer to as 'The Venus Flytrap' wherein we hip-thrust-trap any unsuspecting dancers that either one of us should want to ensnare. What fun! 

The next thing that happened damn near put a dent in my night. Some asshole, dancing with some classically beautiful blond, gave me a look like I was seriously one of the most hideous things he'd ever seen. It is not an image I will soon forget; I wish I'd never witnessed it. Now, there are two things of which I know and attempted to find consolation in in that moment: One, though not drop-dead gorgeous, I am a pretty girl. Two, I can dance my ass off. Concerning the latter, I know this because Black people, yes plural, have told me so; and as all White people know a Black person, particularly Black woman, do not compliment White girls on their dancing unless they are truly deserving of that admiration. Still, I felt myself loosing steam as well as my zeal for dancing, seeing that horrid look on his face over and over again; remembering the way the bouncer didn't want to ID me, to say nothing of the fact that I'm the oldest of our group of friends. I tried to divert my thoughts and energy, focusing on TS who was obviously delighted by his BFF, rallying my dancing spirits. I remembered myself. Am I a victim? Fuck no. There was no way I'd allow some douche-bag to get me down and mar one of the most fun nights I'd had in years. And as though my Higher Power wanted to reward me for those self esteem boosting sentiments, a very very young and handsome bloke began dancing with me. When I asked him how old he was his answer was 'old enough,' to which I laughed heartily. He told me that I was an exceptional dancer and that he'd rarely seen girls that could move like me. Then he took me up to a roped off level where only VIPs could go, and when I asked why he could do that he answered that he was a part owner of the club. Woah! So then I really wanted to know how old he was, and he admitted that he was 20 which blew my mind even more. After stating that I was 30, his reply was that I was still beautiful and an incredibly sexy dancer. I ate up those compliments and beamed. By then the Roomies were giving me the signal that it was time to move on so I gave the lad a quick kiss, thanked him for making me feel young again, and bounced.

Oh, and on another side note, one of the things I love most about New Zealand and that it is perfectly acceptable, and indeed common, for guys and girls to be friends; best friends even. In the US it seemed that no one could allow a man and women to be friends without assuming that something sexual was happening between them; and if one was out dancing with their friend it would certainly scare off any other potential dance partners. Not so in New Zealand. When I guy wants to dance with a girl they do it regardless of whoever else is around. It's simply refreshing! It was a bit cumbersome however, when a muscly 23 year old picked me up and carried me off like a friggin' rag doll last weekend at a club in Palmy. When I asked TS and DC why they hadn't stopped the brut, they laughed and said it looked like I was having fun so they didn't want to interfere.

The second to last place was a low-key and mostly vacant place DC picked because they were playing Tool. I took things way back by ordering a SoCo and diet, and enjoyed repeatedly toasting with the Boys over such things as having awesome, non-judgmental, flatmates who also have similar musical tastes. Indeed I'm anticipating having two of the best flatmates in existence. Sure they are smelly boys, but we are all active sorts of people and share an enthusiasm for social interactions. DC plays the guitar and loves to sing as I do, and TS plays the bass and also makes his own wine, spirits and beer, having obtained a degree in food science. Not to mention they seem to accept and love my ridiculous American Self for reasons I'll never fully understand. Score!

We finished the night off with the one and only thing that could truly solidify our already formidable relationship; we went to the Strip Club. What happens in those joints stay there, I will say that it was nothing short of phenomenal and I have an even higher admiration of my friends now. It was there that I also got my second huge confidence boost of the night. Perhaps it was the liquid courage in me, but I felt positively convinced that I was both fitter and a better dancer then the girls I saw perform. One was particularly portly, but I became so captivated my her confidence and obvious ability to do her thing regardless of the thoughts of others, that I damn-near fell in love with her. What's more, I heard no snide remarks or japes, nor saw any sideways glances or looks of disgust; the Kiwis dug her, so I fell in love with these incredible accepting, open and honest people all over again. By then it was 4am. I was sacked and had started losing my voice, much to the Boys' delight, so we went back to the hostel. Being too drunk and/or lazy to crawl up on a top bunch, I told DC to shove over and slept next to him. One hell of a night.

It was a good time, but I'm with you Ron!

And so I look forward to next Saturday and living with my best mates. Knowing the Boys, DC especially (damn, even his initials foreshadow the inevitable event), I'm guessing our house is going to be most lively on the street, with plenty more shenanigans and misadventures. We already have about 10 parties planned!

DC will most likely be wearing a Spiderman costume.

Thought of the Day 16/03/2015: Analyzing Kiwish

I've figured out the Kiwi Accent! Do you remember your SAT analogies?

Kiwi : UK :: Boston : American

Basically, Kiwi's sound like Englishmen, just a bit more annoying. Their A's are more nasally and the overall tone is a bit softer and less punctate. They pronounce 'so' as soooou, with a hard s. I'm getting keen on it though. Oh, and here's a good question; how is it that Kiwis and Brits can say 'reckon' and it sounds charming, yet every time I hear an American say it I get a very clear image of a fat redneck in ripped bib-overalls with one strap undone and a piece of straw coming out of their mouth? It's just not fair. It's commonly used here, but because of that negative connotation I simply can't bring myself  to integrate into my own lexicon. Kind of the same way I find it hard to hitchhike though it's so incredibly common, and safe, in New Zealand. 

Thought of the Day 15/03/2015: Manawatu Gorge Walk

Manawatu Gorge Walk [Link to All Pics]

Fact: I love hiking. Nothing in this world can describe how I feel alone and among nature. I savor the sights, sounds and smells of the Bush (haha, aka forests, woods, etc.), walking at my own pace and stopping to eat, drink or piss whenever I please. Most importantly, I revere the silence, it clears my mind and eases my anxiety. Stopping every quarter kilometer on a ten kilometer tramp to watch an old dude whack caterpillars off leaves, talking about trees I couldn't distinguish from one another, while waiting for the slow pokes bringing up the rear, is not my idea of hiking. Admittedly, going on a guided tour probably wasn't the best idea, but I thought I might meet some people and decided to give it a go. As my frustration mounted, however, it was clear to me that my hike would be ruined it I didn't do something. As politely as possible I asked the tour guide if it was ok that I go ahead of the group. Like all Kiwis, he was phenomenally understanding, and assured that it was no trouble but did give me some pointers on staying to the correct path; bless his caterpillar obsessed heart!

The second I was alone my stress disappeared and I came alive, but the incident got me thinking about my basic human tendencies. Should I have been less of an impatient control freak? Probably, but berating myself for doing what comes naturally to me is no longer an activity I practice. I've said it before, and I'll say it again; though a harsh truth to face, it's a fact that I'm the only person guaranteed to stay with me for my entire life (true for all Humans). Once I realized that a few years ago, I made the critical decision to be nice to myself and life has been more enjoyable ever since. Any other person could be an asshole to me, but I'm not allowed to be one of those assholes. Moreover, knowing that I'm there to support and encourage also serves to take the sting out of other peoples' displeasure. I've lived life with negative self-talk before, and it was a miserable fucking existence. I may not always be pleased with the things I say and do, but I acknowledge that I always do my best and accept who I am regardless of any other feelings.

Along my tramp I began to muse over the fact that while hiking, I never look behind at the path I've already traveled; always staying focused on what is in front of me and the task at hand. Suddenly it struck me that thought is also a phenomenal analogy for life in general. It's well known in both psychology and spirituality that one can best avoid feelings of depression and anxiety by keeping focused on the present. Eckhart Tolle calls it "The Power of Now." Specifically, one who dwells on the past often suffers depression and regret, and those who reside in the future tend to be anxious, worrying about things that may never come to fruition (that's me!). Hiking is really the only time I can remain in the present without letting in other stimuli, and it's why it makes me so authentically happy. True to my yearning to split from the group, I couldn't bear to linger in one spot, wanting to forge ahead without looking behind nor worry about what to do when I reached the end. I can't hike all the time, however, so I've recently implemented a new tactic for my anxiety that seems to be working well. Every time I ask myself a negative 'What if' question ('What if I die on the toilet straining to take a shit like Elvis?'), I consciously counter it with at least three positive 'What if' questions ('What if I'm absolutely fine? What if I meet the love of my life in the next five minutes? What if I get a promotion at work?). It's becoming as easy as it became to change my inner speech from negative to positive, the pivotal change I mentioned above, and has a similar calming effect.

[Read the following paragraph with the understanding that I speak only for myself and how I personally feel. There is no right or wrong. Everyone is entitled to their own thoughts and feelings, these are mine.]

Despite breaking from the tour group, I still met many people along the way. While hiking in the US, especially Colorado, people are friendly and say 'Hi'; while hiking in New Zealand, people become your friends. During my lunch I met a few people and had an epiphany. I was explaining that I felt the need to leave the US because it was a stress factory; I could never quite attain a sustainable level of comfort, so I left. Shortly after, continuing my hike, I realized that the same stress stimuli exist in New Zealand: work, money, food, chronic constipation, traffic, relationships (or lack thereof), etc. The critical difference, however, is that here people are so nice, giving and supportive that it's difficult to become overly anxious. There is always someone to help me, whatever my needs may be; a ride back to Palmy, help with my immigration visa, fingerprints for an FBI check, an speedy Australian visa, an apple to raise my blood sugar, or a coffee date offer to ease interview anxieties. In American, though people are superficially helpful, they certainly don't go out of their way to help each other and I always end up feeling like I owe them something afterwards. Here, someone usually offers their help before it's even requested. Interestingly, I don't feel that this originates from a need to please others as in the Indian culture, instead it's purely genuine. The essence of New Zealand culture centers around doing what's right which encompasses helping others, it's their way of life and anything else confuses them. Why wouldn't people be friendly and helpful? Why, indeed! No joke, when I lived in Denver a girl was raped at DIA in a terminal full of people, no one stopped to help her. Unfortunately that pretty much epitomizes how I feel about America, which is sad because I KNOW there are neighbourly people there too; I've met them, and have been one! In the end all I know is that I told myself I'd never be happy in the US, so I wasn't. For my own sanity's sake things had to change here, and they did. I'm a legitimately a happier person here, and I'm not going to question or analyze the sentiment; I simply want to enjoy life.

Thought of the Day 02/03/2015: What's Wrong With This Treadmill?

It was my first day of work (which was kick-ass, but an article of its own which I don't have time to write just now), so naturally I wanted to start my day out right with a run at my new gym, CityFitness. I entered my normal speed of 6.3 and began to move with the belt. Imagine my confusion, however, when the pace the belt achieved barely hit my walking speed. Immediately I suspected that the treadmill was faulty, but that only latest a moment before the face-palm set it. The speed, of course, was in kmph and not mph! Literally giggling out loud, I began to play with the setting to figure out my normal pace in kmph. Due to its nice even number and easy light running speed, I settled on 10.0 which is actually 6.2 mph, so I got it pretty damned close!

Into the metric system at 10 kmph!

Anyway, all these little differences (which I've mentioned in my previous blogs) is what keeps NZ novel and fun. Simply altering the way things are spoken of or presented in stores keeps me on my toes, typically having to rely on social context to pick up on meanings before my ignorance is  made apparent. Here are some more examples:

NZ Weight
During my health assessment for work the nurse took my weight, which I assumed would be taken in kilograms, a pretty easy conversion from pounds (1kg = 2.2lbs). Instead, she declared that I was a little over 8 Stone. Since weight is a topic I'd rather not think about, I was extremely happy that that number was positively meaningless to me; and I plan to keep it that way!

Capsicum 
I actually had to google the term before I realized this word simply meant bell peppers! For some reason the word reminded me of capers and I thought it was a spice. 

Jandals
The first time I heard this phrase, I assumed the speaker was attempting to pronounce sandals with a speech impediment.

The NZ Light Switch
Since my arrival I found something odd about these switches, but didn't realize what it was until last night. This switch is in the off position, one presses the switch DOWN to turn the lights ON. It's opposite of its US counterpart where you lifts up for the on position. 

Kumara
I suppose a cuisine savvy traveler would not have as many 'huhs?' as I've had, because most of the terms that stumped me related to food. Kumara crisps (another vocabulary deviation itself) are very popular here. I assumed it was some sort of root vegetable, but not so, it's simply a sweet potato chip!

Crisps Vs. Chips
 More than a couple of Kiwis have expressed their frustration at receiving potato chips instead of french fries upon ordering chips in America, haha. Here, crisps are 'chips' and chips are 'fries.'  

Thought of the Day 22/02/2015: To The North!

The lovely town of Picton, where the Interislander sets sail.

Harbour view from the deck.

Inter-Island Travels 

I assumed that Kiwi travel between the North and South Islands would be as common as Americans going from one state to another, no biggie. My trip over via the Interislander, however, has me thinking otherwise. The sheer expense of the trip ($176 for Hank and I to cross, one-way at that) is enough to prohibit much transposition. Also, everyone keeps asking me if I’m going on holiday, which must be the common reason South Islanders go to the North Island, and vice versa. There’s also the fact that the S’s haven’t seen much of the North though they’ve been dual citizens for 20+ years. I didn’t think much of it when they told me, but now it does seem a bit odd given their outgoing and adventurous natures. They’re always taking people around the South; perhaps I surmised they simply preferred the South, which is the general rule among all Kiwis. I too will be likely working in the North, but playing in the South. Fingers crossed!

Hank on the boat.

There was a lady coming through the line of cars ready to board asking about bio-hazard potentials, and I instinctively looked down at my bag of apples hoping I could keep them. Instead she was looking for hiking boots and camping/fishing gear that may have come in contact with South Island rivers and lakes, and could therefore be carrying harmful bio-organisms that they attempt to keep out of the North Island. I thought that was pretty neat. When she asked if I was visiting, I told her I was immigrating and going to the North for a job interview. After congratulating me, she wished me luck. It still astounds me how nice people are here.

The Interislander looks like a friggin’ cruise ship, complete with shops, lounges, cafes, and a live band! Apparently, covering ‘Mad World’ is incredibly common for New Zealand bands because this band did it, as well as the band at the brewery Friday night. Both renditions were very similar, merging the calm sadness of the Gary Jules version with the more poppy electric sound of the Tears for Fears version. They also played the Punjabi rap song and it was actually really good! At least part of my exorbitant ticket went towards entertainment.

UPDATE! Ok, I just got the skinny on this situation by chatting with a local from Christchurch who I’ll refer to as M. M also bought me two glasses of wine, which I drank without considering the fact I’d have to drive off the damn boat and find my way North for a 2 hour drive. Definitely not my smartest move. Anyway, besides travel to Wellington, the North Island Port, taking the Interislander is almost unheard of except if the person traveling has to bring their car (like me). Flights from Christchurch to Auckland are only $59; so it may not be that there isn’t much travel, it’s just not by sea, which now makes a lot of sense! The travel is typically restricted to Holidays or business needs and involves flying and renting a car rather than taking the Interislander. He also informed me that this is the roughest and most expensive straight to cross in the world, though thankfully it’s not too rough today.

This was the Tuscan Dream pizza I hovered at a Mediterranean restaurant north of Wellington to kill my ill-advised buzz. Yum!

Oh and get this, while chatting with a Pennsylvanian park ranger on Holiday, I discovered that her parents own a house in Cape Fucking Vincent?!?! Unbelievable! One thing I always realize while traveling is just how small this world really is! [For those of you who don’t know, I went to Cape Vincent Elementary school!]

I Heart Hank Nummer Zwei

I literally can’t lock myself out of this car. At first I found it annoying that the doors automatically unlocked when shut if I had locked them while the doors were open. Now I realize the genius of that plan, and I’m grateful! Especially given the fact that I only have one key, unsurprising for a ’97 car that’s had more than it’s share of owners.

Pet Eels?

The S’s took me to this cool little place in Nelson called the Jester House where they advertised their tame eels; eels that would slither up on the rocks for food one could buy in the shop. We must have gone at a bad time of day for the eels because they were nowhere to be find, but I thought the idea fairly comical and certainly unique. At least until I was driving through Marlborough on my way to Picton and passed a placed that advertised about its celebrity, ‘Eddy the Eel.’ So apparently pet Eels are a thing here, seems a bit creepy to me but I suppose it’s no different than owning a snake or fish.

Hot Pies

This place is obsessed with hot pies, they’re mostly like chicken potpies of meaty varieties like mince (aka hamburger, but usually from multiple animals), steak, beef and cheese, Bacon and egg, chicken and vegetable, etc., but they’re all basically them same components of meat, starchy filling and buttery crust. Needless to say, I may opt out of this societal norm. It reminds me of America’s obsession with frozen burritos, but somehow they seem healthier.

Some other random food facts include:

- There’s no turkey lunchmeat, it’s all ham and salamis of varying quality. This is chicken sometimes, but it’s really expensive.

- Muesli is huge here, as it is in Europe. As an American is just seems weird to eat oats without cooking them first; but this is likely contributed to my newfound regularity, which is a welcomed novelty!

- Skim milk is called Trim milk. I think it sounds more elegant.

Fanny Fact

Here, a Fanny is a vagina. So I was cautioned against saying anything about wearing a fanny pack, because in NZ that’s akin to wearing some sort of sanitary item in the nether regions. Also, females should avoid getting confused at receiving a ‘pat on the fanny.’ I’m really glad M decided to share this information with me!

World Series? Really?!

Apparently the one thing Kiwi’s find hilarious about the US is that they call their annual Baseball tournament the World Series. M boldly asked, “How many fucking countries compete? One I reckon! Wouldn’t you need at least 2 to be considered a World Series?!” then he laughed heartily. Once I thought about it I started laughing too, he was totally right!

Fun Phrases:

- My shout/No need to shout back/Next shout is mine. = I’ll buy this round/There’s no expectation for one to reciprocate the round/I’ll buy the next round. (All in the context of drinking)

- Sweet As! = Cool, Great, Sure; really just a typical reply to say ‘good,’ buy they use it very versatile ways.

- Good on you/him/her. = Good for you/him/her, and can also mean congratulations, etc. 

Random Update

That roadkill was a Possum! We spell ours Opossum but they spell it Possum, and they’re typically red in color. They do have our variety as well, but they call them silver backs. My roadkill intuition is exquisite!

Possum, not Opossum

Thought of the Day 23/02/2015: The Most Amazing Day of My New Life

The easiest way for me to relate this unbelievable day is to do a play-by-play, so here goes.

'The Square', Palmerston North, NZ

0700

I went out for a run to center myself on this important day. Interviews don’t make me nervous, but I’ll openly admit that I was feeling a bit stressed since I couldn’t plan anything past this milestone because all my other decisions would be based off of getting the job. Since pharmaceutical companies never give an offer on the same day as the interview, I spent my run taking in the town and also planning a tour through the North Island while I wait to hear back from this potential company and/or other interview possibilities in Auckland. Meanwhile, my anxiety was mounting as I planned to spend money without knowing when I’ll be able to replenish my funds.

It was a wonderful run. Palmerston North (PN) is truly a charming mid-size city that is kept immaculately clean and has all the social venues and conveniences of a college town. Indeed, it is the 7^th largest city in New Zealand (NZ) and encompasses Massey University, the largest in NZ, as well as Linton Military Camp, also one of the largest of its kind. Perfectly situated in the center of the North Island and an hours drive from beaches, skiing, mountain lakes and waterfalls, PN boasts a beautiful town Square and lengthy river path, tons of quaint shops, free WiFi zones for Spark customers (like me) and comes complete with plenty of Indian and Thai eateries. Hell, even their pubic toilets are charismatic as they play ambient music to ease the evacuation process. I’ve also noticed that the petrol here is considerably cheaper than the rest of NZ. In short, it would be the perfect place to start my new middle-class life.

Towards the end of my run I found a Countdown to buy some yogurt and bananas for my breakfast. I planned to walk back to the hostel from there, but it started raining heavily so I jogged and prolonged my morning exercise. The temperature was warm, however, and made for a delightful skip through the rain.

'The Square', Palmerston North, NZ

1000

After showering, eating, and packing up Hank I headed downtown to enjoy some free WiFi compliments of Spark Mobile, definitely one of the coolest things about my phone plan! Especially considering that they’ve put these free WiFi booths all over the country, including in desolate mountain towns where there are otherwise no signals. Anyway, I Facetimed my Sister and Mother, reiterating my mounting stress regarding the fact that I couldn’t plan where to sleep that night. Assuming I’d have to wait to know the outcome of today’s interview, I tentatively planned to head to Turangi for some good-old fashioned mountain hiking and time-killing. Talking to them really helped me, they always make me laugh and encourage me to get a grip. It seems that everyone has more faith in Summer that I do, haha.

'The Square', Palmerston North, NZ

1100

In-line with all pharmaceutical companies, it is situated in the middle of nowhere. Therefore, I headed to site early to ensure there wouldn’t be any issues. I’d packed a lunch, so I planned to sit in the parking lot, eat and then read until the 1200 interview. Upon seeing that the compound was guarded by a gate, however, I decided to park to an inlet to a field assuming that no one would need access to it. Well, I was wrong. It wasn’t long before a good-looking farm boy came by on a tractor. He came up the car as I was preparing to move, and I apologized explaining that I was waiting to go to an interview. He asked if I was American, so I begrudgingly said yes and explained that I was hoping to immigrate. His reply was ‘Sweet as’ a very typical and diverse phrase in NZ approximately meaning 'cool'. The able farmer then wished me luck and I moved so he could get the tractor into the field. I re-parked just a bit further up the drive to be out of his way, but to my surprise he came back in only a few minutes and asked how much time I had before my interview. I replied that it was at noon, just 15 minutes from then, and he said ok, he had intended to invite me back to his house for some coffee if it had been longer so I wouldn't have to wait in my car. Wow, whether he was just being nice or he thought I was pretty enough to ask to coffee, that little interaction definitely put a smile on my face; fresh positive energy for the interview!

'The Square', Palmerston North, NZ

1400

I came out after a 2-hour interview and tour utterly elated…. I GOT THE JOB!!! Astoundingly, they said they were ‘keen’ on me and drew up a contract right then and there. One of the restrictions of my visa is that I can’t be hired for ‘permanent work’, so they wrote a contract through December, understanding that well before then I’ll secure a long-term work visa and transition to a permanent employee. I won’t disclose numbers, but rest assured I’ll be quite comfortable in my new job as a Quality Control Lab Technician.

As if getting the job wasn’t awesome enough, I next secured a fantastic little studio apartment, complete with a sunny balcony, by some fateful miracle! During the interview I asked the HR rep about finding permanent housing. She gave me the information of a nearby complex, The Mews Apartments, that they had contacted for another hiree who is set to start the same day as me, 02-03-15. They only had one apartment available, however, and the HR Rep wasn't sure if it had already been taken. While driving back I decided to stop in on a whim. The apartment was to be let later that day, but the property manager showed me to space anyway to give me an illustration of what they offered once another apartment became available. I loved it immediately; this particular space was really warm because it got full blast of the afternoon sun, a godsend for me. I’m not sure how it came up, but I spoke of my passion for cleanliness and cleaning so the manager took a liking for me. The next thing I know she said ‘screw it’ she wanted me to live there! She even explained that she thought it was fate, people had been trying to let that apartment all weekend but she had held it for the other employee of this company instead. Now that the other hiree hadn’t responded, she replaced my name with hers and left the denotation. Amazing! I’m moving in on Sunday and I'll be sure to post pictures!

Best of all, when I returned to the same hostel I had stayed at the night before, they gave me free WiFi as a congratulations gift! These people are incredible!! Now, I have to stay in Palmerston North for a couple of days so that I can get a health screening before starting work on Monday. After that, I plan to travel North and explore Lake Taupo and Hobbiton! 

'The Square', Palmerston North, NZ

1700

So I have a job and an apartment, what I need now is …. you guessed it, a gym membership! I spent the next hour walking to two gyms and securing passes so that I can test-drive their equipment, as well as survey the fellow gym-goers, prior to making a decision. Honestly, everyone says that the cost of living in NZ is outrageous, but I find it very reasonable. My monthly expenses include a phone plan, gym membership, rent, internet, groceries and petrol, and though I’ve underestimated my monthly income as well as overestimating the grocery costs, I’m still well on my way to being a middle class Kiwi with money to save! Granted, the groceries are expensive, but I never deny myself quality food; it’s well worth forgoing things like cable, movies and alcohol that I don’t really need anyway. Yet it does confuse me that everything is paid for bi-weekly except for the phone bill; I’ve certainly never paid rent or gym memberships bi-monthly. Even more odd is that they all charge you weekly but only debit the your bank account bi-weekly. It's just strange seeing everything as a weekly price, it makes everything seem so transient. This is especially noteworthy considering that I will be paid monthly, and in the middle of the month at that. I’m very glad I know how to budget like a pro!

'The Square', Palmerston North, NZ

1900

Now I’m back at the hostel having some rice pudding, which was really good considering it was canned, and an apple and thinking “Holy shit, did that really just happen?!” I filled Momma in on my day and she made my life even better by promising to come visit for Christmas; I’m holding you to that old woman! All the while I’m typing away and updating my information on the internet, the other people in my hostel are watching MIB, hahaha. Blessed, that’s the only way to describe it; I’m blessed.

Tomorrow: Go to the library to post blogs, test drive a Spinner and Row Machine at Jett Fitness while surveying for hotties, pick up my IRD card so I don’t get taxed 40% and go to the Visa office to inquire about the next steps for securing a long-term work visa. YAY!