Showing posts with label Wellington. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Wellington. Show all posts

Friday, November 17, 2006

Bad Weather

I know I have written about Wellington's crappy weather before, but at the time I thought it was a passing thing. One cannot expect winter weather to be good, because bad weather is what definies winter. But now it is spring, and since the nice days in Wellington are really nice, I was hoping it would improve.

Not so. Since I got back a week ago, it's been storming almost nonstop. And this is not your average wind and rain, either. I seriously considered going to hide in our window-less hallway the other day for fear that the glass was going to blow in. Then my flatmates and I had a discussion about what they call hurricanes here (typhoons? cyclones? There was no conclusion), and if they get them (yes).

Then yesterday there were TWO earthquakes.
http://www.iht.com/articles/ap/2006/11/17/asia/AS_GEN_New_Zealand_Quake.php

I'm leaving for Auckland tomorrow.

Tuesday, October 24, 2006

A Few More Shots of Wellington

I meant to post these earlier, but never got around to it. First, some super-touristy pictures:


Below is the "Beehive." It's where all the politicians have their offices. It also happens to be across the street from my office building. I have to say it's pretty cool looking out the window and seeing the building where all kinds of important government stuff is going on. But I guess all kinds of important government stuff should be going on inside my building too, but once you're working there you realize that "exciting" really means "bureaucratic." Better to stay out of the Beehive and maintain the illusion.



The really impotant stuff goes on in the building on the other side of the Beehive: Parliament. I took a tour during my first week in Wellington, and was astounded by the lack of security. The full extent of the security check I endured was leaving my cell phone and camera in my backpack and checking it at the visitor's desk. The only reason I had to leave my bag was because it was large; if I'd had a purse instead I could have kept it with me. Apparently the cell phone is banned so that it doesn't disturb anyone, and the camera so you can't take unauthorized pictures (there are very strict rules on what can and can't be filmed--TV cameras filming proceedings can only film the person who's speaking. One channel just got in trouble for showing an MP who wasn't speaking, but instead was giving the finger to another MP. But that's another story). Anyway, what really surprised me was that there was no metal detector of any kind or any kind of check--other than your own honesty--that you don't have any contraband (a guy who was on the tour with me had a distinctively phone-shaped bulge in his pocket and nobody seemed to care). I've been to bars right here in Wellington that have more security. Apparently the Beehive just put in some metal detectors, but they're only in operation during business hours. That certainly wouldn't fly in DC. Or even in the Washtenaw County Courthouse.

Now on to less touristy things. (Note: click on the pictures to make them bigger) I took this first picture from the top of Mt. Victoria and it's exciting because you can see my building! I know you can't really tell what it's pointing at, but it's the best I could do. Other highlights of this picture include the Basin Reserve (that big green cricket field), Massey University (not where my flatmates go, but I guess it's still worth noting), and the War Memorial (pretty much self-explanatory).


This next picture is also taken from Mt. Victoria. This one looks out over the Wellington Harbour and the Wellington CBD (Central Business District). As you can see, my job is in a pretty central location, right across from the Beehive. Technically it's the Treasury Building, but the Ministry of Health is in there too, obviously. To give you an idea of how this fits in with the last picture, it takes me about half an hour to walk from my flat (I walk north and slightly west) to work.


Thursday, September 28, 2006

Phoning the Home of the Moriori

Here is why my life is awesome: on a regular basis, I get to send packages and make phone calls to the Chatham Islands.

The Chathams (pop. 717) are a little group of islands way far away from pretty much everything else. New Zealand is already one of the most isolated places in the world, and the Chathams are 800 kilometers east of Christchurch. That's about the same distance from Ann Arbor to St. Louis--but with nothing but ocean in between. They're no Pitcairns or Easter Island, but they're a bit more than a hop, skip and a jump away.

Anyway, here is a fairly typical interaction with the health provider we work with out there:
-It all starts because I need to send some documents to them by courier (they're contracts, so I need to make sure they get there)
-But the people at the courier company don't have the Chatham Islands in their computer, so they can't ship there. (I should note that it was NOT typical that the woman working at the courier company had never even heard of Chatham Islands)
-So I call the provider to ask what they think would be the best way to get the contracts to them
-Well, they tell me, you can't actually courier stuff out there. The best you can do is courier the contracts to the Wellington airport addressed to Air Chathams, and then Air Chathams will take them out there.
-Another option is to just send them by regular mail. Let's see, there's a mail plane going out in a few days, so the contracts can get there by mid next week. They'll sign them right away and stick them on the next plane back, so it should be about a week and a half total turn-around time? That'll probably be the fastest way.

Sometimes I forget I'm on the other side of the world. For the most part things aren't that different here. It's mostly the same cultural norms, same standard of living, same technology, same food, etc. But then I'm making phone calls to remote islands, sending emails in an indigenous language most Americans have probably never heard of, and walking past stands of pine and palm trees. It's a little like living in an alternate universe, but much cooler. At least compared to all the other alternate universes I've l lived in.

Saturday, September 23, 2006

Random Wellington

All the guidebooks will tell you that Kiwis are adrenaline junkies. Bungee jumping was invented here, and it's only one of the many ways that they like to fall from tall heights in dangerous ways. What the guidebooks did not tell me was that they indoctinate their kids the extreme lifestyle starting at a very young age.


There are three official languages in New Zealand: Maori, English, and Sign Language. The Wellington city council also speaks canine.


And here is a sign you just don't see in the United States (or many other places, for that matter)

Sunday, September 17, 2006

House Party

Peter and Roni are making their first trip back to the States, which is pretty exciting for two reasons. First, it's pretty convenient that they're going about a month before I do the same thing--I'm looking forward to hearing what kind of culture shock they experience, what it's like being back, etc.

Maybe more exciting is that they needed someone to look after their flat while they're gone. And who better than their cousin? It's a pretty good deal for everyone. They get me to look after the place, and I get to use their broadband connection. So I will be doing a lot of internet catch-up over the next two weeks. In between watching every back episode of the Daily Show, I'll be available for chatting (if you Americans are awake around 4am). Also, expect some pictures to show up on the blog.

God I love broadband. Even more than I love quesadillas.

Tuesday, September 05, 2006

Like Seeing Hamlet at the Globe

Over the weekend I went to the Paramount Theatre, the big fancy movie theatre here where Lord of the Rings premiered. It's pretty "flash" (a good Kiwi word for you), in large part because Peter Jackson paid for a complete rennovation. In return they are still playing Return of the King on the big screen.

All the seats, which are huge and super-comfortable, have little plaques naming the donor that paid for them. Down in the front are plaques with the names of the LOTR stars--it's pretty cool knowing that Elijah Wood and Orlando BLoom sat here and there.

So what powerful masterpiece did I see in this historic theatre? None other than Snakes on a Plane, of course. And it was awesome.

Friday, September 01, 2006

Price Check

I have started studying for the GRE. My Princeton Review book (which cost me more in shipping than it did for the actual book) has given me a list of approximately 5 billion words that I need to learn for the verbal section. I would really like a high score, so I plan to be able to recite the dictionary definitions of all 5 billion words by the time I take the test in October. Flash cards have always been an effective study method for me, so when as soon as I got to the vocab section of my studying, I set out to find some index cards. Should be simple, right?

I figured that if New Zealand is anything like the US, I would be able to pick them up from the supermarket on our weekly grocery shopping expedition. New World supermarket is pretty much like any supermarket in the US, so they have an office supply section with notebooks, pencils, envelopes, etc, but, as I discovered, no index cards. As I was looking around the shelves, I asked my flatmate if she saw any, but she didn’t know what an index card was. “Um, what else do we call them? A 3 by 5 card… no, I guess you wouldn’t call it that either. Well, it’s basically a little blank card that I can use to make flash cards.” Man, I am bad at describing things (this morning I tried to explain molasses to my coworker and failed at that too. This does not bode well for my success on the writing section of the GRE).

It wasn’t really surprising that a supermarket had a small selection of office supplies, so I figured I would check out the $2 Shop (they have $2 shops/fast food menus/etc the same way we have $1 stuff at home. $1 would be too cheap—based on the exchange rate, it would be like having a 65 cent store in the US). They had a much bigger office supply selection, but still no index cards. And there was nothing even close—no recipe cards, rolodex cards, etc. What do Kiwis have against indexing things?

My next stop was Whitcoull’s, a bookstore with a large office supply section. It took a lot of hunting, but finally I found what I was looking for. And that’s when I realized why I hadn’t found them at the $2 shop: they were seriously expensive! Not that I go around comparing index card pricing, but I do know that $8.99 for a pack of 100 cards is a little ridiculous. Again I thought I could save some money by going for something similar like rolodex or recipe cards, but those were even worse: $24.99 for 50 rolodex cards? It costs that much extra to punch out the little holes at the bottom?

Just last week Roni and I were discussing how strange the pricing is on some things over here. Stuff like toothpaste and shampoo is relatively cheap, especially when you convert to American dollars (which I try not to do, seeing as I am earning New Zealand dollars). Some clothes—t-shirts and other casual stuff—is not too bad either. But then shoes are really, really expensive. A pair of cheap shoes that I would maybe pay US$20 for at Target will cost NZ$100+ over here! It’s all very random and confusing, but in the end I think it is just another indication that I should be saving money for travel and souvenirs instead of developing a shoe (or index card) collection that I will just have to leave behind when I come home.

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Out of curiosity I just did a quick search on OfficeMax.com for index cards, and found that a pack of 500 costs US$2.99. Let’s do some math: NZ$8.99 for a pack of 100, means that a pack of 500 would cost NZ$44.95! Even if I convert using today's exchange rate of NZ$1=US$0.65, that is still US$29.23 for a pack of 500, which is clearly out of control. That's a 978% markup!

The good news is that I am going to do awesome on the math section of the GRE.

Tuesday, August 22, 2006

Wolverweekend

Since being overseas, I have been quite disappointed with the lack of Michigan paraphernalia I’ve seen. If the lines that the school and the alumni association feed us are true—“Michigan has the largest body of living alumni in the world,” “The Michigan logo/colors/name are the most printed logo/colors/name of any sports team, college or pro,” etc.—then you would think I’d see be seeing Wolverines everywhere I go. Even in rural Kenya I saw a good amount of Michigan apparel, but I hear that’s more because thrift shop cast-offs get sent to Africa than because rural Kenyans are Michigan fans (I also saw a fair amount of Kenyans wearing fraternity and sorority apparel, and I think we can assume that 99% of them were not in the Greek system). Painfully, I have seen more Notre Dame gear than Michigan gear in the last six months.

But this weekend was practically like being home again (not really). On Friday I was at a Ministry of Health party (who knew that Public Health is the party directorate?) and spotted those familiar colors from across the room. My friend who I was talking to was really confused because I interrupted him mid-sentence with “Is that a Michigan shirt?!” and walked away. It was indeed a Michigan shirt, and the woman wearing it was from England, but her parents had both gone to U of M. She told me all about how much she loves wearing the shirt, and how her parents always talked about how great Ann Arbor is. She and her brother finally got to visit a few years ago, and made a point to go stand in the middle of the stadium and soak it all in. Glad to see the pro-Michigan brainwashing works just as effectively on people raised in other countries.

Then on Saturday I was out with my flatmates and ended up talking to some guy who asked where I from. When I told him Michigan, he replied, “No way, I’m moving there in a few months! Do you know Ann Arbor?” Pretty random, no? So I gave him a quick rundown on everything from Arbor Brewing Company to Zingerman’s, and only got mildly homesick in the process.

I’m not exactly sure what the universe was trying to tell me with all of this, but I assume it had something to do with the fact that football season is starting soon. Despite the fact that I usually spend football Saturdays cursing traffic and napping while everyone is at the game, I’m actually getting really excited this year. I’ve already researched a sports bar where I’m told they’ll show the games, and have shown my flatmates pictures of the Big House to prepare them (they were in awe—as they should be—that Michigan Stadium is something like four times bigger than the Westpac Stadium here in Wellington where the rugby is held). I guess being away from the madness actually makes me miss it and has unexpectedly brought out my school spirit.

There’s really no other way to end this post: GO BLUE!

Sunday, August 13, 2006

It was Wellington's Fault

Yesterday I was at the gym, stretching after my workout. Since there’s not much to look at while I’m stretching, I often end up focusing on the emergency procedures poster. Perhaps my psychic abilities were working extra hard, because as I was reading the earthquake procedures, I felt the ground shake. No joke. It was a big rumbling and felt like when you are in a multi-story building and there’s construction work happening on the floor below, or like when you’re in a small building (like a house or something) and a really big truck drives by. I looked around thinking that someone had knocked over a weight tree or a treadmill or something, but no. Still, I figured whatever it was had happened in the other room or outside or whatever, and I forgot about it.

Later I was watching the news and they mentioned “the earthquake today in Wellington.” What?! That was an earthquake?! I know that New Zealand is chock full of seismic activity, and I definitely expected to experience an earthquake at some point here, but I guess earthquakes are just not part of my frame of reference. I am much more used to good old fashioned Midwestern natural disasters like blizzards and tornadoes. Stay off the roads until the snow lets up? Gladly. Hide in the basement waiting for the sirens to stop? No problem. But the idea of the ground actually moving underneath me is pretty scary.

My flatmates, however, were unimpressed by the earthquake or by my reaction to it. “Yeah, they happen all the time,” they yawned. “There have been a couple since you’ve been here—you probably just slept through them.” In fact, Wellingtonians and Kiwis in general are so used to earthquakes that the only news article I could find about it was in the The Hindu, India’s national newspaper.

Okay, fine. So the earthquake was totally not that scary at all, especially since I didn’t actually know it was an earthquake. And Wellington buildings are designed with earthquakes in mind, so in all likelihood I am very safe. But last night as I was falling asleep and a big truck drove by, I did a quick check to make sure there was enough room to hide under my desk.

Thursday, August 10, 2006

Old Man Winter Vacations in NZ

Okay, I know it’s a little cliché and potentially boring to write about the weather, but with US newspapers talking about the heat wave and NZ papers talking about our weather situation here, I figure I’m entitled to at least one blog entry about it. (This of course is ignoring the fact that I complain about the weather in pretty much every email I send home).

The awesome thing about coming to the Southern Hemisphere in February was that I left Michigan’s cold and stepped out into the Australian summer. But now, in August, the weather reversal is not working in my favour. People, it is COLD down here. I know, I know—as a Michigander, I should know how to deal with it by now, especially when I admit that the thermometer here is actually hovering in the low 40s (that’s Fahrenheit) and is therefore nowhere near the bitter temperatures I grew up with. But I would like to point out a few things in defense of my complaining:

1. This is not the same wind we have in Michigan. The weather forecast regularly discusses “southerlies”—winds blowing up from Antarctica. Remember in “March of the Penguins” the scenes where the penguins all have to huddle together to shield themselves from the cold and lots of them die? Those are the same winds that make their way up here. Also, while the rest of the country is shielded by friendly mountain ranges, Wellington’s position on the Cook Strait, right at the bottom of the North Island, means that we get no protection. The weatherpeople are not kidding around when they talk about “gale force” winds.

2. Winter in Michigan is dry and snowy. Winter in Wellington is wet and rainy. Although I’m happy not to save money by not buying a humidifier, I’m not so happy with the constant rain and with being soaked by the time I get home from work. And it’s not like being soaked from playing in the snow, because there’s no warm, dry place to come back to. On the upside for people who live here permanently, this is supposed to be the wettest winter on record, so they don’t usually have to deal with all this. On the downside, it’s causing a lot of problems with flooding and houses sliding down mountains.

3. There are severe differences in the heating systems here i.e. a severe lack of heating systems. My flat (which is highly representative of other homes) has little insulation, thin windows, and no central heating. When it gets down to the 40s in Michigan, everyone has the heat on. Not an option here.

Yes, maybe I should be a little tougher after living in the cold for my entire life. But even though I am used to harsh Michigan winters, I don’t like them. I’m still cold every single February. For that matter, I’m still cold when it’s in the 60s in May, and I still sleep with a blanket in the middle of July. My low core body temperature prefers the low 80s. The reports of America’s current heat wave don’t sound so horrible to me. Although it’s hard to imagine what at 110 heat index feels like when I’m wearing a sweater. I guess you always want what you can't have. But somehow I doubt I'll be jealous of the States when I'm lying on the beach in the middle of January.

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Here is a completely unrepresentative sample of winter days in Wellington:

Taken in mid June:


Taken in late May:


Taken in early June:

Monday, July 31, 2006

Tangi, Part 2

On Tuesday morning, Candida (the British girl who was my foreigner buddy at the tangi) pulled me into the kitchen. She had overheard one of the managers berating Rebecca for taking us to the tangi. The manager had felt that taking us was inappropriate, as Candida and I had no connection to the deceased or her family.

I won’t get into the questions of whether the manager was acting appropriately for chastising Rebecca about something that occurred outside of work hours, or whether this was an improper expression of authority. The question I’m more interested in is whether the manager was right. Was it inappropriate for us to attend?

There’s no question that Candida and I were attending specifically for the cultural value of the experience, and that this was the pretext under which we were invited (at least that’s what I assumed). Rebecca knew that we were interested in learning about Maori culture, and that a tangi is something that a “regular” tourist would not have access to. I felt honoured to be welcomed to such a private occasion. When we told others in the office that we were going, they didn’t seem to think that it was strange or disrespectful. Instead they gave us a little background on what would happen, and the next day asked about our impressions.

However, I can see where the manager was coming from in her disapproval. Our attendance could easily be seen as objectifying an occasion that really, really should not be objectified. Funerals are not shows for tourists, and in many ways it’s pretty offensive to even consider this idea. It seems very exploitive in a lot of ways.

In this case I don’t feel like we acted inappropriately because I don’t think Candida or I saw this as a tourist event. But it makes me wonder where the line is between what’s okay for tourists and what’s not. If I as an individual who is living in New Zealand am invited by a coworker to a cultural event where I’m the only foreigner, I don’t see much of a problem, especially if I am adhering to the customs, etc. Taken to the other extreme, it would be horrible for a busload of tourists to show up at a funeral snapping pictures, etc. But the line gets blurrier in the middle.

When I came to New Zealand back in high school, we spent the night on a marae. The night included a traditional meal and a show with traditional dancing. We did adhere to many of the customs—we touched noses with our hosts, we took off our shoes inside the marae, etc.—but it was a clearly a situation designed specifically for tourists. I am a little torn as to whether this was exploitive or not. On the one hand, I learned a lot about Maori culture, traditions, custom, etc. and that experience was a highlight of the entire trip. It was my first introduction to Maori culture, and one of our only opportunities for this on the trip.

But because the visit was a sightseeing activity, packed in between things like visiting wildlife parks and hiking on volcanoes, did that somehow demean the situation? I can’t help but think that a postcard home might have read something like, “Dear Mom and Dad, Today we saw kiwi birds, hot pools, and Maoris.” I get annoyed with people who, for example, vacation in Hawaii, spending the week at a resort and then one night going to a luau and feeling like they learned about the culture. But on the other hand, at least they tried to learn about the culture. And even if they were truly, respectfully interested in learning about the culture, the tourist luau may be the only opportunity they had. Human cultures aren’t--and shouldn't be--like zoos or wildlife parks where you can just go observe when you feel like it.

I definitely think it makes a difference who is running the tourist attraction. Since the marae we visited was run by Maori people, they were the ones who were opening up their culture and inviting the tourists in. Still, people can definitely contribute to the oppression and objectification of their own culture, and when money is involved there are a lot who are willing to do so. Just look at all the actors of color who take stereotypical, offensive roles. So how can I, as a tourist, tell the difference?

I guess the answers to these questions aren’t going to come any time soon, and I’m going to remain feeling awkward about the way I’m learning about Maori culture. It’s especially challenging because as an American with European ancestry, I am doubly placed in a position as an oppressor with regards to Maoris, so I feel like, by default, I am coming into the situation from a paternalistic or condescending position (or at least may appear that way). It would definitely be a different situation if I were trying to learn about, for example, French culture. The challenge is increased because there’s no easy comparison with US culture (at least not one that I can think of--I'm definitely open to any suggestions), which is usually what helps me better understand and work through these situations.

But for now I guess all I can do is remain cognizant of my questions and try my hardest to act in ways that I feel are respectful. Moreover, I recognize how lucky I am to have met wonderful, generous people who are willing to share their culture with me.

Tuesday, July 25, 2006

Tangi, Part 1

Yesterday, my coworker Rebecca, who has very kindly been looking for Maori cultural events for me to attend, invited me to a tangi (a Maori funeral practice). Definitely an atypical experience for a tourist, there was a lot to take in and a lot I want to write about, but for this entry I’m narrowing it down to just one train of thought. More to come later.

Like funerals anywhere in the world, there was quite a bit of traditional protocol to follow. Fortunately, Rebecca and her two friends we went with took good care to explain what to do. Also fortunate was that Rebecca also invited Candida, a coworker of ours who is on working holiday from London. I was definitely thankful to have another outsider with whom I could exchange looks of “What are we supposed to be doing?”

The ceremony was at a marae and started with everyone gathering outside, the women in front and men in the rear. The group was welcomed on to the marae through song, and we entered in a line, now with the men first. Each person was greeted at the door by the elders of the marae (I think that’s who they were), and then went through a receiving line, greeting the members of the grieving family. This part was especially confusing for me because there were different ways of greeting, and I couldn’t figure out much of a pattern to it. I learned on my last trip to NZ that the traditional Maori way of greeting someone is to grasp right hands and touch noses, so I was expecting that. But some people followed it with a kiss on the cheek, and others just did the kiss on the cheek. I tried to just copy whatever Rebecca was doing, but since she knew some of the family members, so she of course greeted people more intimately with long hugs, etc. It’s the same kind of awkwardness as I’ve found at funerals, weddings, etc. at home where you wonder whether it’s appropriate to hug, shake hands, or whatever (remember the “Friends” episode where Rachel kissed her interviewer?). But at home I’m familiar with the clues that tell me what to do, and for the most part I know I’m not going to break any cultural taboos by going for the hug when the other person was thinking handshake. But here there's a different set of social rules, and I don't know how to pick up on the clues.

Luckily for me, it seems as though the people I met were used to dealing with clueless outsiders. In my fumbling through the receiving line, people kindly told me what to do and said comforting things like “It’s hard to know, isn’t it?” It seems as though the Maoris I met are used to this because they encounter it when dealing with non-Maoris. It’s only natural that non-Maori people will end up attending important events, such as funerals or weddings, that follow Maori traditions. Also, based on my interactions with my flatmates and other pakeha (white New Zealanders), it seems that many are relatively ignorant of many aspects of Maori culture. So this was not likely the first (or the last) time that the Maoris I met last night will have to tell someone “Just touch noses.”

My first reaction is to find it disheartening that the pakhea—who have lived next door to Maori culture their entire lives—wouldn’t know what to do in situations like this. I mean, if I, someone who has only been in New Zealand a short time, know that you’re supposed to touch noses with someone as a greeting, shouldn’t people who’ve grown up here? How is it that last night was my second time on a marae, but one of my flatmates has never been on one? Shouldn’t these people be ashamed of themselves?

But upon more reflection, the answer is more complicated than assuming that any pakeha ignorance is the result of a racist and/or imperialist attitude. Firstly (haha, Kiwis say things like “firstly” and “secondly” here all the time—it still sounds funny to me), I have to remember that I have spent eight hours a day, five days a week for the past two months working with a group of people who are almost all Maori and whose job is to address Maori issues. Moreover, I have been actively seeking out education on Maori culture. So it's not really that surprising (though not necessarily acceptable) that I would have picked up more language, ideas, etc. than my flatmates who grew up in Christchurch, a city with a small Maori population.

Secondly (see, doesn’t it sound weird?), I have to think about comparative situations I might encounter at home. I’ve never felt ashamed of myself when attending, say, a Bar Mitzvah or an Indian wedding or a Catholic funeral and not knowing all the proper protocol. I have lived my life in close contact with Jews, Indians, Catholics, etc., but I am not necessarily well-versed in their cultures, let alone cultural ceremonies. Is this the same situation? Should I be ashamed that I don’t know more about my friends’ and neighbors’ cultures?

Maybe I should be ashamed in some respects, but I also think it would be weird if I did know everything that was going on when attending cultural events where I'm an outsider. Part of what makes cultural affiliation so empowering is the ownership that comes with it. I’ve definitely felt a possessiveness when people who are not a part of my culture (whatever that may be in a particular situation) try to be “down” (for lack of a better term). As an outsider to Maori culture, while it would be wrong of me to disrespect their cultural practices and not try to learn proper protocol, it’s also wrong of me to expect that they would want to share everything with me (or anyone else). There’s a time for educating outsiders and a time for just being with your own people, and as an outsider I don't get to choose which is which.

I guess what I end up struggling with is how to learn about other cultures in a respectful way. I am not trying to be a voyeur, but I’m also not necessarily trying to fit in. In studying another culture, where does the balance tip from genuine interest to objectification? And even when I am genuinely interested, what right do I have to have that interest met?

Wednesday, July 19, 2006

Ring Ring

My job requires me to do make a lot of phone calls, and this has led me to a weird discovery of a new cell phone technology that I have not yet encountered in the States. Not only can Kiwis change the ring of their cell phone for incoming calls, they can change the ring that the caller hears while waiting for the cell phone owner to pick up. So basically what happens is that you hear "ring ring" like any normal phone and then all of a sudden some music (I assume chosen by the cell phone owner) plays over the ringing. I was a little confused the first time this happened, hearing Aretha Franklin's "Respect" playing as the phone was ringing.

This is by no means a bad technology, and I figure that it won't be long until it's introduced at home (if it hasn't been already... I have been away for six months now). The problem comes more that people don't know what to do with new technology. Just as people choose stupid cell phone rings that embarrass them when their phone rings in public, people have been choosing pretty stupid rings that I hear when I'm calling. This is the same thing that happened when we first got answering machines and people thought it was funny to record stupid messages, and the same thing that happened when people were allowed to choose their own email addresses. The rule translates pretty easily: If you're going to use your answering machine for business purposes, don't record have your three year old do the recording. If you're your email is for business, "HotBabe4U@hotmail.com" is a poor choice. And if you're going to give out your cell phone number for business purposes, I just don't think you should choose to have Jaime Foxx's "Slow Jamz" playing in the background.

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PS- Sorry about the lack of blogging lately. Please address all concerns to my job, which has blocked access to blogger.com.

Tuesday, June 20, 2006

In Other News

I was reading Saturday's Dominion Post, Wellington's local newspaper, and guess what I came across in the world section? Lo and behold, it was a short article from the AP wire about where else but Ann Arbor, Michigan. I shouted to my roommates that my hometown had appeared in their newspaper halfyway around the world.

Stupidly, I didn't think to see what the article was actually about before reading it to them out loud and showing them how my home is represented in the international press. I had actually read the same story in the Ann Arbor News a few days before:

http://www.mlive.com/news/aanews/index.ssf?/base/news-18/115029425989890.xml&coll=2

My roommates' first question was "Why would anyone be carrying a gun around like that?" Good question. Honestly, that didn't even really occur to me. I didn't realize just how prevalent gun violence is in the US until I came overseas. There are almost never stories about shootings, and if there are, they're big news. Just when trying to find the link to this article, I found three gun stories on the AA News 14-day archive. It makes me sad that I have grown up seeing these stories on a regular basis and thinking that it's the norm. Not to say that there is not violence here, but there is definitely a lot less, or at the very least, a lot less reporting on it.

Wednesday, June 14, 2006

"I've never met anyone who doesn't speak two languages"

A few days ago I went out for coffee with some of my coworkers and not surprisingly, I was the topic of conversation. They asked the usual questions like where I'm from in the US, what I did back home, etc. Like many people, they were curious as to why I'd chosen to come to New Zealand and I explained that it was one of the easiest places for me to get a work permit. I also added that my travel choices are somewhat limited by the fact that I only speak one language.

And that's where the conversation came to a screeching halt.

"You only speak one language?" they asked incredulously. "You must speak something else!" No, not really... I took French in high school and can understand very basic Spanish, but that's about as far as it goes.

"But you're Indian," one said. "Don't you speak an Indian language?" I explained that only my father is Indian, and since my mother doesn't speak Tamil (my dad's first language) I didn't grow up around it. My coworkers were stunned. I mentioned that a lot of immigrant parents in the US really stress English, and soon the conversation quickly broadened from language to culture as a whole. "Culture is very important to us here in New Zealand," they told me. "I can't imagine not learning about your culture and your ancestors and everything they went through to give you the life you have today."

An interesting similarity between the US and New Zealand is that both strongly identify as nations of immigrants. However, the way that this plays out is very different. The US sees itself as a melting pot (and happily throws that term around), while Kiwis definitely appear to be more of a "tossed salad" (I don't know if they use that term). To me the main difference between these is that in the US, becoming an American pretty much means renouncing whatever nationality/culture/identity you had before. We become hyphenated Americans--Asian Americans, African Americans, etc. (whether or not you actually use a hyphen is a whole other blog entry in itself)--and these identities are distinct from the cultures of our ancestries. I identify as "Indian American" but not as "Indian." That's not the case with New Zealanders. You can be an Indian and a Kiwi at the same time, and it doesn't seem like they question that concept. As the generations continue, people are still able to maintain their ancestral identities while also being Kiwis. Because of their different perspective, they think that I, and other Americans, have lost my culture.

So because I don't identify as Indian, am I devoid of culture as way my coworkers seem to think? To me, the answer is both yes and no. I definitely don't know as much about my Indian ancestry (or my European ancestry, for that matter) as I wish I did, and I could definitely devote more time to learning about it and involving myself with it. But on the other hand, lacking Indian culture does not leave me without any culture at all. There is quite a bit of culture that is uniquely American (and I should know; it was my major in college, after all), and the longer I spend overseas the more I realize how closely I identify with many of those uniquely American things. Though I like the idea of being able to identify as Indian and American at the same time, I also like the acknowledgment that it is a different experience to be an American (or a Kiwi) with an Indian ancestry. Americans could definitely learn a lot from Kiwis in the way that they see ancestry and multiculturalism, but I think that the American interpretation cannot be written off completely.

On a side note, I have a question for you, the reader. As you were reading this blog entry, how did you picture my coworkers? Specifically, what race/ethnicity did you picture them to be? They all happen to be Maori, and I definitely wonder if I will have any similar conversations with Kiwis who are white. And I also can't help but wonder if this conversation would have happened if I were white. Not that it should/shouldn't have happened no matter what the racial breakdown of the group, but it's just something to think about.

Saturday, June 03, 2006

Happily Alone

Last night marked a momentus event for this trip. It was the first night since I left in February that I spent the night in a room by myself. That's right, I have found a flat where I now have my own room. No more hostel dorms, no more three-person rooms in a share house, no more worrying about when to turn out the lights or if it's acceptable to kick the person who's snoring. Finally I can unpack my stuff in a space of my own.

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Here's the view from my bedroom window. Yes, the rainbow is always there.



Friday, June 02, 2006

Gainful Employment

Hooray! Finally there will be money coming into my bank account instead of just leaving it!

I had my first day of work today. Not too bad considering that I just started my job search on Monday. Although it's only a temp job doing lots of admin work, I'm pretty excited about it. The temp agency actually took my interests into consideration (or at least it seems like they did) and found me a placement at the Ministry of Health in the Maori Health department. While health is not a huge interest of mine (although I have nothing against it, of course) I am quite interested in Maori culture, particularly contemporary Maori issues and how they compare to our indigenous people back home. So this works out pretty well for me considering that I was just looking for any job I could get.

The actual work will be doing administration for different grants that the office gives out, such as scholarships for Maori students in the health sciences and funding for Maori health providers. It's going to be a lot of filing and tracking applications and boring stuff like that, but it is an interesting shift from working on the grantseeker side of things. We'll see if it's better to be on the side that gives out the money instead of the side that's asking for it.

What I think will be most interesting is that I am definitely going to be learning a good deal about the Maori language and culture. I've already noticed that people use Te Reo (the Maori language) phrases in their emails, and even Microsoft Word is set to a font called "Arial - Maori" so you can use the appropriate punctuation. A good percentage of the employees are Maori themselves (not surprising, but nice), and they start every morning with singing/praying in Te Reo. I was invited to join, but I think I will hold back for now. Don't want to make a cultural faux pas this early on.

The final bonus to this job: I work across the street from Parliament and "the Beehive" (where all the members of Parliament and the Prime Minister have their offices). You can just feel the political power in the air. Not really, but it's a nice thought.

Tuesday, May 30, 2006

Well in Wellington

It has been quite a week since I last posted on here. It didn't take too long to give up on Auckland once I found out that the woman who was supposed to be helping me find a job was in fact doing absolutely nothing. So when a new friend told me she was driving down to Taupo (about halfway to Wellington) last Friday, I was eager to catch a ride. Taupo looked pretty much the same as the last time I was here, but it was still great. Hopefully the next time I am there, I will get to see it from a whole new angle: jumping out of a plane. Taupo has the cheapest skydiving in New Zealand, if not the world, and I am not missing out on that.

Me in front of the Huka Falls where they flow into the Waikato River (later I will try to find what I'm sure is the exact same picture taken in 1997):


The Huka Falls from another angle:


A wierd geothermal area known as Craters of the Moon. That's all steam rising up from the ground. I didn't get any good pictures of the boiling mud, but just trust me that it's there.


On Saturday I was planning to take a bus from Taupo to Wellington, but got really lucky and happened to find a brother and sister who were driving down to Wellington and were happy to give me a ride if I split fuel costs. So my whole trip to the bottom of the North Island ended up costing about $15, plus I got to ride in real cars with interesting people instead of a cramped bus. Not too bad!

In Wellington I was greeted by some familiar faces. My cousin Peter and his wife Roni have just moved down to NZ as well. They're a little more hardcore than I am--they're getting residency status, finding real jobs and actually planning to live here. Even though they are also newcomers, they were able to give me a nice orientation to the city and point out all the important things (mainly where to eat, which really is the most important thing). Sunday was more family reuinon fun, with an awesome hike around eastern Wellington up to a lookout where we could see the South Island and the Southern Alps. It was the perfect day to go because it happened to be the one day since I've gotten here when it was not gray and chilly. Even though this picture is not the greatest in the world (gotta get my camera fixed--it doesn't seem to like taking pictures in focus), that white stuff on the horizon that looks like clouds is actually the Southern Alps.

On Monday it was time to get down to business and I spent the day handing out/emailing resumes to every temp agency I could find. I was a little frustrated at first when one of my roommates at my hostel--who doesn't even have a work permit--got some phone calls back and I didn't hear anything. But Tuesday brought better news and an interview with a temp agency who has already found an interesting position for me. They said they just need to finish talking to my references, and I should actually have a job to start ASAP.

Hopefully my good luck with this city will continue as I move on to the next piece to the puzzle: finding a place to live. I went to check out a place yesterday and was thoroughly disappointed. However, the girl showing me the room could have done a little better at selling it by not telling me things like "I would never go in the bathroom without shoes on" or "We just got a cat because we have a mice and rats." I'm willing to forego a little luxury for cheap rent and a good location, but only to a certain point.

So all in all, Wellington has been treating me well and I can only hope that it continues to do so since I plan to stay here until the end of October. The only area where I could stand some improvement is in the weather, but if this is "winter" then I really can't complain.