Guest Blog: the Reign of Mom

So what you might not know is that the inspiration for all this writing stuff comes from my mom. Yup, nature vs nurture: it's gotta be a little of both. We've been keeping in touch through e-mails for years now, and from Spain to Costa Rica to good old Malibu, a huge part of our relationship has been based on the ridiculous stories we send each other over the internets. Always hyperbolic, ever entertaining, my e-mails with my mom have always been a huge part of my travels. Now with the whole blog thing, I've become a little less verbose in our correspondence (sorry ma), but to give you a sampling of the awesomeness of the e-mails I receive from mom I asked her to do a blog about she and my dad's experience here in NZ. Certainly our "public face" requires a bit of cleaning up (it was with great disappointment that I discovered no off color remarks in this entire passage) but this is still great stuff. So, without further ado, here's NZ-mom style:
{oh and get your fine-ass over to here for more pics}

The ‘rents are back home from another stunning ChaiBait (recently redone, buya!) adventure and what an adventure it was. Imagine a roller coaster ride that lasts three weeks winding thru idylic green pastures filled with fluffy white sheep stopping periodically to walk peaceful tracks through glens of tree ferns or cycling along deserted beaches or a quick rush at adrenaline laden tourist sites.

As usual we left home with only a fuzzy image of what the next three weeks held and landed in Christchurch two days later. As we were completely sold on the Flying Kiwi from the awesome promotional video we had seen on their website we had arranged to meet up with them there for a quick tour of the south island before meeting up with Kari. With a great group of people from all parts of the world (and 30 years younger than we are) we camped out, rode bikes, hiked peaceful trails, visited Mt. Cook, went white water rafting and spent a night in an old road construction camp left from a public works project back in the 1920’s. It was an excellent introduction to New Zealand and how things work down there, including the finer points of driving on the wrong side of the road.

As you read in the previous blog we were occupied the afternoon we had arranged to meet up with our next tour guide(Kari) in the adrenaline capital of Queenstown. Just for clarification from the last blog, one is never too old for peer pressure. Before leaving the US I was aware that New Zealand offered sky diving, bungy jumping and other adrenaline laced activities. I was more than sure that I didn’t need to participate in said activities. However once surrounded by innumerable outrageously adrenaline loaded activities offered in a relatively small village and being surrounded with people who all thought these were perfectly normal activities to pick from, skydiving seemed a rather tame choice. After all I was not strapping myself to a 60 horse power air craft engine with a set of bicycle breaks and a throttle or jumping off a bridge with a rubber band tied around my ankles. Everything went smoothly watching other skydivers float effortlessly down from the sky landing in the pasture next to the hanger full of parachutes and gear. It was even fun putting on the jump suit and goggles and meeting the pro I would be trusting my life to for the next 20 minutes. As we headed out toward the plane I began to feel the first hint of anxiety. Nothing I couldn’t overcome but reality was beginning to settle in. Now I understand the real reason for being tied to someone who knows what is going on. It is not only that he knew when to pull the parachute cord but before that was even a possibility he was going out the door of the plane and therefore I was going out as well. Everyone made sure to mention to keep my eyes open as I went out the door so I could watch the plane disappear as I fell away. Now why would that make anyone feel better? Fortunately none of us spattered on the ground or wandered off to other adventures and by evening had happily reunited for the first time in six months.

The ADHD portion of the trip was about to begin! The next two weeks were filled with driving on the wrong side of the road, trying to remember that the turn signals and windshield wipers are reversed as well and split second decisions on where we would go next. For the most part we found everything we headed for with the exception of a really cool vineyard that evaded us for several hours. After the third call we decided it was far too embarrassing to show up and as we never did find them anyway it was just as well! Perhaps receiving a cell phone call from the side of the road asking where we were encouraged them to think we had been to a few too many vineyards already. We didn’t mean to sound that dumb, we just are.

Kiwi’s are a fun lot making even the most mundane experience a hoot. Such as the Waitomo glow worm caves. I imagined sitting on a log in a dark cave thinking “Yep that’s glow worms alright” and walking out 10 minutes later. Glow worms Kiwi style involve wet suits, gum boots, hard hats and an inner tube. One dons said attire, clambers down inside a cave, plunks down in the tube and floats along in the underground stream admiring the glow worms stuck to the ceiling of the cave. All the while the guide told us about the giant carnivorous eels that inhabit the cave. I think there was something about the glow worms as well but as my wet suit had a hole in the left cheek area it seemed the carnivorous eel might be something I should pay attention to. Fun times!

Also on our list a chance to see a sheep sheared. It seemed with that many sheep it would be easy to find one in need of a hair cut but everywhere we went it was the same old story “wow, you should have been here last weekend or yesterday or even this morning”, humph. Just as we were getting discouraged and about to give up we passed a little tin shed with a big sign on the side “rabbits sheared daily”. Well okay, if there were no sheep to be sheared a rabbit was the next best thing. We made a quick turn around and had a wonderful tour of the shop with lots of beautiful, soft knit stuff. A quick tour of the outside lean too revealed several rabbit cages each holding a fluffy Angora rabbit patiently waiting for what turns out to be a quarterly haircut! This was starting to be really fun. At the appointed time one lucky rabbit was chosen and set up on the shearing bench while a disappointed sibling was placed on a pedestal for photos. As the shearer trussed up the shearee a narrator entertained us with a running monolog all about the rabbits and the fur and the products produced by local knitters. What started out as a big, fluffy rabbit ended up a very appreciative wee little bunny! That was way better than sheep who always seem slightly confused and vaguely violated.

After dropping Kari off at the Lakewood Lodge for a few days of filming Read and I headed off to Auckland and one last day in New Zealand. Following our tried and true no plan tour we dropped our rental car off and caught the ferry to Waiheke Island. We stopped at the local information center and within 10 minutes had found a room at a Bed & Breakfast place on the ridge between the two harbors. Off the deck we had a relaxing afternoon watching the sailboats bob gently in the afternoon sun. Then we headed over to the other side of the island and walked along the beach and among the tide pools. At dinner we toasted the sunset and a wonderful adventure overlooking the bay with a lovely local wine.

ahhhh. Alright, who is currently looking up plane tickets? Good work ma.

Holy Schneikies

Well this certainly has been an interesting week...okay month...okay 6 months.

But we'll just stick to the last few days shall we?

So the whole "flinging myself at a job" thing wasn't exactly a drop in the bucket. But damn have I kept myself busy. Exhibit A-- cutouts of Carly Ann and I in various newspapers (the "hell" things are our fridge magnets). Though I am useless and jobless, I still managed to make it to press covered events...sounds very Paris Hiltonesque. Oh holy mother I need a job.

But it's not as if I'm lacking in things to do. Besides the opening parties, volunteering at the Fringe headquarters, rehearsing for our play (which is actually gonna be pretty freaking cool), overhauling the website so I actually look semi-legit (the results of which you'll see after the computer guy comes and works his magic on my ailing laptop), interviewing with various temp agencies/cafes/bars, going to callbacks, hanging out with random friends, running in the nearby park, writing bad poetry and the like...this particular week was interesting for three reasons:

1) The Kari and CarlyAnn $10 Budget for Food Challenge

2) The Sevens

3) My sales job

Okay, let's get started the Food Challenge.

So last Sunday CarlyAnn sat at her computer working through student loans and the like and by the end of her calculations laid $5 in coins on her desk. "This", she said, "Is all I've got for food for the week". Seeing as I'm a great roommate--and haven't really included tallying up a budget into my busy, unemployed lifestyle--responded, "Okay, then, me too." On our walk through the hills around our flat we discussed how it would be possible to spend $10 between the two of us on an entire week's worth of food. By the end of the walk, we were so excited about the challenge that we celebrated by blowing half the budget on ice cream cones.

We then wandered to the local grocery store, bought $4 worth of this lentil soup stock stuff and a lemon. Things were looking good. Let me tell ya, lentily soup stock can take all different forms: mix that sucker with cornmeal and you got yourself a patty. Stuff it between bread and it's like a tasty spread. Add some extra water and it's a very brothy soup. It certainly helped that we allowed for "found items"...such as the free bread that our roommate brings home from work every day and the meat in the freezer that I'm sure no one cared if we used.

I do have to admit, on day 2 I tried to sneak a $3 diet coke but the guilt so overwhelmed me that I broke down on day 3 and told Carly Ann of my transgression. I tried to argue that due to its lack of caloric density, it should not, in fact, count in the "food" budget. It was also bought for "medicinal purposes"--you see my stomach was slightly upset and I had to walk a full hour across town to get from the dvd printing studio to rehearsal and...and...yeah, even I was unimpressed. Fortunately CarlyAnn made a whopping $3 tip at her bar job (nontipping countries...pah) and I found $2 on the ground over the course of the week, so that cancelled things out. By day 4 Penelope, the other roommate, jumped on the band wagon with her $5 and we were just rolling in dough! And creative uses of random kitchen supplies. We're now so excited by the way things are going that we've decided to keep up the $10 a week challenge (well, now $15 with Pen on board) for as long as possible...and hoping to God that our various gigs will include many a dinner party.

Now on tooooo....The Sevens!! According to the website: "Staged at Wellington’s Westpac Stadium over two days and nights, the NZI Sevens involves 16 international teams competing for points that go towards the International Rugby Board (IRB) Sevens series...blahblahblah"

Okay, so essentially hot men from around the world duke it out in a stadium and the whole city dresses in ridiculous costumes to go watch. Yeah. Costumes. See exhibit B (those Borat costumes were actually banned this year for...well...the good of the community).

Everyone then stampedes out of the stadium and straight on to Courtenay Place aka downtown aka 5 minutes from my house and parties it up all weekend long. Exhibit C is the hat that I commandeered from one such reveler who insisted that I take it from him. I agreed. In a city this small, the excitement is everywhere and you can't turn a corner without seeing a whole herd of people dressed up in some insane costume. Yeah, so I like rugby.

And now for....the job in sales.

Okay, so I'm looking in the Job sections of the newspaper as I do most Wednesdays and there's this ad for a sales and marketing job: no experience necessary, travelers welcome. That right there told me--this job is gonna suck. When the employer lacks any kind of standards for your employment, that is a bad sign. But desperation breeds compromise and off I went for an interview.

I walked up the stairs of a shady looking auto-technical supplies warehouse to be met with booming pop music emenating from the second floor. The cool looking, open plan office was teeming with attractive 20-somethings busily filling out paperwork, chatting and disappearing into important looking rooms. I immediately looked around for the paddle and wondered when the hazing would begin.

Instead I filled out a very short survey that essentially asked if I had a pulse and what my interests were. 5 minutes later a very toothy and attractive James #1 led me into his office. Turns out the company is run by three Jameses who all have an affinity for pastel colored shirts and hair gel. After an interview that was essentially a competition to see who could hold eye contact the longest, he invited me to go on an observation the next day with a girl that I would "really like. She's really bubbly". Bubbly. That meant he thought I was bubbly. I hate it when people call me bubbly. Even if it is true.

The only information I was given was to "dress professionally and wear comfortable shoes" as we were going to meet with "clients". That right there made me wary, but seeing as they offered free lunch, I was game. A dinner roll stuffed with ham later I was dumped in old-people-ville-suburbia to sell a new energy company to bored retirees. Yes, my friends, I spent the afternoon as a freaking DOOR-TO-DOOR-SALESMAN
...and I kinda liked it.

House #3 included a lady that had actually just retired that day from four decades as a nurse, so as we helped her fill out paperwork she buzzed about ensuring the cake and bbq stuff was all set for her party. House #20 had a newborn baby that I rather awkwardly attempted to entertain while the "bubbly" Kelly clinched in the deal and House #32's 12-week-old border collie and I definitely will be keeping in touch. It was actually fun getting to step into these people's lives for the afternoon--especially since I just got to chat with them while Kelly took care of the business side of things. By the end of it I was thinking: Hey, I could actually see myself being okay at this...that is if I was able to make it to more than two houses per afternoon. I tend to ramble on a bit.

...but then, with a job, how could I maintain my flashy unemployed lifestyle? Yup, despite my peaked interest, the killer hours (12:30-9pm) would completely conflict with my Fringe show obligations, and that just wouldn't be cool of me. But I gotta say, the people element of sales really does capture me. You never know, maybe I'll be bringing a revolutionary new vacuum to a door near you.

Yet despite all these stops and starts...I don't feel as if I'm in the wrong place. In fact, all of this is somehow clarifying. When I came to NZ, all I knew was I had to get here. I didn't really know what I wanted out of life and didn't have much in the way of future goals. But all these crazy jobs, friendships and adventures later, I feel like I finally have some clarity. I'm getting a good grasp of who I am, what I want and it's becoming clear that I really can get there. Even if it does end up I have to sell a few vaccuums along the way.

Oh and there are a few more pics up if you feel the need to take a gander: http://www.flickr.com/photos/8151765@N03/sets/72157603836465565/ They're not nearly as exciting as the south island stuff, but there's some cute shots of CarlyAnn.

Auckland=Hells yes

In recent news:
1) I arrived.
2) I met up with my buddy, Carly Ann. Just for a little context, you'll see her pictured to the right.
3) I got a job...make that jobs. As in two.
4) I have an agent
5) I am learning...emphasis on learning...to love rugby
6) I have yet to figure out how to get a plain cup o' joe

Yup, nearly 48 hours after landing in Auckland it looks like I may actually survive.

First of all, the people here are incredibly, genuinely nice. Here I am in the largest city in the country, the economic capital of commerce, and it seems no one's in a big rush. They all have time to chat and joke and they don't even mug you. From the dude that sold me my Vodafone minutes to the coffee shop workers at the mall this morning, everyone seems to take a genuine interest in others' well being. It's weird.

As for me getting a job, I personally use that term very loosely. I know most people think of a job as an entity in which you "make money" and/or receive a "paycheck", but you see, most of my experience with working has involved free labor, scholarships or under the table cash benefits. In fact, thinking back on the jobs I've held, only one has officially led to government taxation. So this whole going out and finding a place that will actually pay me under governmental standards is a bit of a new concept for me.

So new, in fact, that my two "jobs" don't really involve a pay check.

But wait, they're still cool, so I had an appointment yesterday at 11am to meet with one of the co-directors of the DocsNZ international documentary film festival. The festival starts at the end of the month and I just lucked out by arriving in the midst of all the preparation and planning...in other words they needed a willing slave and I don't have a lot else going on, scratch that, nothing else going on, so it seemed a perfect fit.

So I walk into the office and right away the boss guy seemed cool. I come to find out that this office is an entertainment-one-stop-shop. All family run, he's an entertainment lawyer/documentary film dude/actor/producer/etc. whose sister (two doors down) is a talent agent and other sister does some kind of film development. It was all explained to me, but between jet lag and pure information overload, I just nodded my head a lot as I was pulled from one office to the next.

7 hours later I stumbled out of my interview with acting representation, an internship with the immensely well connected boss man (that hopefully will turn into a paying job very soon) and an afternoon spent crawling beneath computer monitors and editing equipment in an attempt to prove my technical abilities (which are, admittedly, wanting).


So fighting through jet lag I wandered into downtown Auckland, a typical big city downtown except for 1) it's kinda small and pretty friendly and 2) you can base jump from their tallest building, the Sky Tower.

Soon I had a resume submitted to "job" #2: working as a receptionist at a chill downtown hostel in exchange for accommodation, free laundry and internet. Seemed like a pretty sweet deal to me, plus as receptionist I'll get to meet everyone coming and going from the place and therefore scope out who'd be fun to hang out with. Yup, I'm that much of a nerd that I got a job partly so that I can make friends. I'd be ashamed if I weren't convinced that it's damn brilliant.

But that job won't start for a couple days, so I trundled the 45 minutes back to my current lodge that's definitely more oriented to an older crowd...you know...people in their 30s. Eek. This morning I woke up at jet-lag-o'clock and wandered into the common room to watch the tube. By 6:45 I was joined by Brandon and Roy, a tiler and a retiree who were up early to watch rugby. Yup, turns out I'm here just in time for the Rugby World Cup, but of course you already knew that, I'm sure.

I am pretty ignorant when it comes to sports. Okay, half the time I'm not sure which way the team should be running or if the ball was a home run or out of bounds or whatever, but lets face it; there's little better than experiencing a game with someone who really loves it. If their team kicks ass, it's great, if they get slaughtered, it's hilarious, but in that kind of internalized I-probably-shouldn't-say-anything-right-now kind of way.

And so with great anticipation and much fan fare, the game commenced...for 20+ minutes. Lots of slow-mos and fast action replays, countless flags waved from all different angles, and of course those money shots of burly, beautiful men destroying one another on the field. That poor man who does the lawn must live in his own personal hell...grow the lawn, trim the lawn, Miracle-grow the lawn, love the lawn, have a bunch of oversized dudes pummel and destroy the lawn...repeat.

So we're watching rugby and it's the match between Britain and South Africa. Before the game even starts I realize I really like rugby, but mostly due to the aesthetic nature of the players. But once it started, try as I might, I could not grasp what, if any, rules there are to this incredibly full-contact sport. Honestly, it seemed that it was a free for all: grab the ball and run until someone destroys you, then chuck it to the next poor soul who will inevitably also be pummeled...leading me to wonder why the hell you'd ever want to pick up the ball. But they do it, again and again, and once in a while the ref will tweet his little whistle and say some guy didn't pummel correctly. I mean really, who comes up with the rules for destroying another human being? But no matter how little I understood of this testosterone riddled game, it was a good deal of fun to watch Roy shout at the players as he sipped his chamomile tea. Good morning.



(New Zealand's rugby team: the All Blacks. A docile bunch)

Well, I've bombarded you with quite enough vignettes and updates for the time being, but all in all I've been having a good deal of fun here with the Kiwis. Hopefully I'll soon be able to make a break from the city for a bit of nature. With how much there is to see and do, I'm quite glad that I have a whole year to explore.