But I'm not getting a big head about it folks...oh no. You see, I don't believe that a bachelor's degree is the be-all end-all of getting a job. Its a foot, more like a toe, in the door. The rest will depend on my seemingly inexhaustible supply of charisma (tee hee) and self-confidence.
Continue reading "MY ACADEMIC QUEST IS COMPLETED! I AM A GRADUATE!" »
Yeah, I'm gonna blog.
I can't believe I'm graduating from college! I've been going to school since I was five years old and now I'm 21 and its over.
Continue reading "What the hell, I'm going to blog... cause I feel like it!" »
I'm back. Disillusioned, and I think I'll be working overseas again as soon as possible. I don't have much love for this place, but I'm going to try again harder this time. I'm alone now, you see, and I suppose this makes it easier to focus. One main characteristic of my island experience was "We'll take things as they come" and just see what the day brings, judging how I feel in that moment. I wonder if I can do that here. I'm quite tired, and actually I think I'll continue to hide in the woods at my mum's place for a couple of days. I don't want to face those SUV's, strip malls and I-5's just yet. I will come out of my hole to see all of you, though. And I'm really looking forward to it. See you all on Monday, dear readers.
It is the second to last day here. How do you soak it all up one last time? How do you focus so that you can take a piece of experience with you? I don't trust my memory. It's too selective and over time I may forget those moments where messages were hidden for me, and I missed them. I might forget those surges of true happiness, those feelings of fleeting immortality that flickered across my mind when I scaled the Haast Pass in that small car, or when I basked in the glow of family love, forgiveness, and unquestioning acceptance on those cicada-soundtrack nights.
I still feel that there are things left for me here. Memories did not overpower my experience here as much as startling revelations of current abilities. I feel lucky that I have New Zealand and Australia always to go back to, to listen to people have conversations about the World, to see Kiwis off adventuring, to know that New Zealand is one of the few safe places left in a world that is largely going to pieces.
My opinions of the United States and its affect on the world have been altered. It is important, so incredibly important, to learn about the world and its people rather than focusing on one country's internal problems only. The United States will become more and more targeted by other countries that see the ignorance of the U.S. government, and I start to realize that we are not so safe as we think we are. Smugness will be our downfall.
This is not to say that I feel resentment towards the United States. There are wonderful things about living in America that bitter people wouldn't understand. But I think it can definitely improve, and that must begin with a more outward-looking populace.
I have experienced hostility from people in Washington when I tell them I go to Evergreen. Because of this I've been ashamed to tell people about my school. Conservatives (or merely ignorant locals) think we are traitors, "reds" and that we talk and protest, and achieve nothing.
In New Zealand, however, the goals of Evergreen are greatly admired by all I've talked to, because any sign that Americans are looking at alternatives to their education system and ways of teaching history and politics is a very promising sign.
In sum, it's good to know that we are appreciated by someone, somewhere!
I have mixed feelings, yes, but oddly, no sadness in the mix. There is more hope for me now than there has been in years. I thank Jin, Sally, and the entire class of Islands for giving me this opportunity.
The questions "Where are you from" and "What are you" have become more difficult and interesting since I came back here. If I say "I'm a Kiwi" I get "No, you're not a bloody Kiwi! You're a bloody Canadian!" If I say I'm American, no one buys it either.
Then if I say I'm from Auckland, which is the place I spent 14 years of my life, I get "OH-ho! A bloody JAFA eh?"
I had to ask my Grandparents what JAFA meant.
"Well, lets just say it stands for...'Just Another Funny Aucklander'?"
My friend Kelly (an Aucklander herself) said "Oh, it stands for 'Just Another Friendly Aucklander'."
But my trip through Southland brought the truth: Just Another Fucking Aucklander. Me.
Auckland has an odd reputation throughout both islands, but it is especially despised by the South Island. I'm inclined to agree with them. It completely lacks the charm and beauty of the other main cities, like Wellington and Christchurch, and it has so much hideous crime per capita that the mistrust is thick in the air. It is not a place of government, art, culture. It is a place of big business, yuppies rushing hurriedly past the bad corners of the city, not making eye contact. Auckland is a bad representation for the rest of New Zealand, and I feel bad that people have to fly into it first. However, after you've seen the worst part of NZ, which Auckland most definitely is, you can better appreciate the rest of it.
On a more emotional note, I'm pleased to say that I've become very close to my family over the last few weeks. Last night my grandmother called me to check up on me, and was wondering how I'm doing. She then said that she believes in me, prays for me, and holds me in her heart every day. I had to choke back tears and keep a "stiff upper lip" on the phone. I'm not used to being surrounded by love and caring by so many different people. My heart is defrosting. I'm going to miss them all. I must come back next year. It must not be another five years before I see them all again.
When I was nine years old, my father and I took an amazing month-long journey around the South Island. You would think that a month is a long time to spend on an island, but the South has so much to see and do, that it is not enough. Nadia and I are attempting the journey in ten days.
Many things have happened but I will elaborate mainly on Stewart Island, Rakiura, the Anchor Of Aoraki's Canoe. It is situated an hour by boat off the southern shores of the South Island. I went there as a nine year old and was enchanted by it. You can't bring cars there, but nor would you need to, as there is only one road, and it's about 5 miles long. The road and the township of Oban take up about 2% of the body of the Island, and the rest is wild, primeval forest, punctured only by walking tracks. The bush has many kiwi in it, and if you travel to certain parts you will probably see a kiwi foraging. It takes ten days to do the Rakiura track, walking fast.
We weren't planning to go to Stewart Island at first. The ferry was a bit expensive and we would've had to leave our car behind. It was a toss up between Stewart Island and the Milford Track. In the end we thought, "oh, lets drive down to the port, stay in a backpackers there and think about it." But oh, we should have heeded the teaching of our island instructors. We underestimated the siren call of the mysterious floating body. Once at the ferry terminal, we looked at each other and said. "Let's go. Now." And so we found ourselves hurtling throught the Foveaux Strait, where the sea was so rough the boat actually left the water at times, and waves crashed completely over us. It was thrilling. But I digress.
Stewart Island makes New Zealand (North and South Island, but Stewart Islanders call the big islands New Zealand, as if they themselves are not part of it) look like a continent. Everyone on the island knows each other. Nadia and I had only been there for a few hours, and already we had caused a stir of curiosity, accompanied by oversexed locals, wondering what the motivation might be for two young women to be travelling alone, unaccompanied by other men! Having never really been part of a small town, I found this very entertaining. If I had to do an Island study all over again, Stewart Island would definitely be on my top three. It's a cold, windy, wild place at the bottom of the world, and the locals find this completely unremarkable. "It's just like any small town," said one. Everyone is situated in the same area, the island is still largely unaffected by tourism, it's small, it's got a fascinating native and colonial history...ahh, so much acadaemia, so little time. Time was what made us leave the place.
As for our current whereabouts, we are in the mountain town of Wanaka at present, right above Queenstown but not so disgustingly touristy. Huge tourism centers are like Kryptonite for us, which is why we didn't want to stay in Queenstown for even one night. It's a beautiful area; why did they have to stick a big ugly tourist trap on it?
This New Zealand stuff is becoming more natural every day. Curioser and Curioser.
Nadia and I met up in Wellington, after both of us got sick of our North Island towns---the North Island is SOOO last week! Actually, it just became time to throw dependence to the wind and see if we could survive being our spontaneous (yet surprisingly adult) selves.
After we stayed with Ms. McManus in Wellington, we caught the Inter-Islander ferry to Picton. Many of the ferries that day had been cancelled because of extreme weather, and this one was delayed, but we managed to finally get going at 6.30pm. It was lovely watching the sunset over Wellington and I really think that Wellington has more charm than Auckland. The ferry pitched, back and forth. One minute your legs are bending and your weight falls to earth, the next you are tottering around on tiptoes, eyes darting frantically for the nearest rail. It was a sunset tribal dance of sorts, because neither of us could help it. When we went back to find our seats inside, we stumbled throught the bar and crashed into a huddle of red-faced men who bellowed "Awready ben ere abit before, ay?" (Bloody New Zealand accent. I can actually mimick it now, because I hear it as being a ridiculous comedic farce of an Australasian. I am perceived as an oddity here when I speak, incurring squint-eyed scrutiny.I am truly a stranger everywhere, and will have to accept that I will be asked about my odd hybrid speech for the rest of my life.)
After the ferry dance we politely sat until the nausea rose in our stomachs. I tried to ignore it by reading a book. The schizophrenic swirling pattern on the upholstery of the seats did not help matters.
We stayed the night at Atlantis Backpackers at Picton (Free Breakfast! --which turned out to be a loaf of bread--) and then went to rent a car for the next ten days. After getting some rather ambitious quotes we got a great deal from Ace Rentals, and are now the proud temporary owners of a Nissan Pulsar hatchback. It is a really cute little car, and its been a breeze to drive. In downtown Christchurch it could fit into any space. My driving has been fine, too, even though I occasionally get in on the wrong side, or grab for an invisible seatbelt.
I drank in beauty all the way on the drive down. I wish my volcabulary was sufficient to describe it, but it isn't at present so I'll have to labor at it in my journal. The word "beautiful" is not specific enough.
So, we are in Christchurch tonight, and tomorrow, new adventures at the bottom of the world. We share the sea with Antartica.
Sweet Island Dreams,
Lyd
I started working on the apple farm this week. Cor! I thought I knew how to do physical work, but it turns out I don't know Shite. You get paid by the bin of apples you pick, and the bin could comfortably fit four men in it. I can only pick about three a day, max. Apples are heavy fruit, too! I love eating apples normally, but this time I haven't eaten a single one, since I inhale the smell so much it feels like eating.
Anyway, I'm sunburnt and bruised. My toes have so many blisters on them I have to wear socks under my sandals. And to top it off, I'm so exhausted when I get back I go to bed around seven o clock. So much for nightlife! Then there's the tent. I don't have a mattress, so I sleep straight on the ground. It's amazing to feel your hip bones, collar bones, and shoulder bones digging into the earth. They hurt after awhile so you have to change positions. Last night, though, a lovely cat came into my tent and slept with me. It was so soft. I wish it would've consented to me using it as a pillow, rather than the other way round.
It's also great to work for Maoris again. It reminds me of when I went to school and the friends I had. The ones that run this farm are the nicest people. It might have something to do with the fact that they smoke cannabis all day, but I prefer to think that they're naturally nice.
Speaking of Maori, I've bought a Maori dictionary to decode place names. My pronunciation is actually quite good (and I've heard this from actual Maoris). My middle name, Rewa, is Maori, and it means "to float' or "to rise above". But don't get me wrong, I'm not being Holier-than-thou. An alternate meaning for Rewa is "to melt fat", which would also be eerily appropriate for this period in my life.
I'm not much of a fan of Auckland. It could have been any city in the world. It had no real identity. I thought that I'd got New Zealand summed up, thought I'd been to all the places that mattered. It turns out there is a whole different part of the island: Hawkes Bay.
I came down to Hawkes Bay with my brother Julian to do some apple and grape picking, for the experience and some money, and that decision has made this journey completely brand new for me. This is wine country, and there are few tourists. The ones that do exist are safely tucked away into their buses in drunken stupor during the wine tours. We went to Hastings to stay in a campground, however, and all through the night there was drunken fighting, screaming,and bottle throwing. I was a little afraid to get out of my tent, lest I be clobbered by a bottle of Steinlager. The next day we zoomed out of Hastings to look for apple picking jobs and met with a steely eyed farmer, who had social skills that matched his isolated lifestyle. He warmed up to us when Julian started talking about surfing. Farmer told us about Te Awanga, which had "the best surfing in Australasia". We found the town, and a beautiful and inexpensive campground that has wild pukekos (flightless birds) wandering all over it. I feels surreal here, like the eastern end of the world. I am reminded of a passage from one of my favorite books, C.S Lewis' The Voyage of The Dawn Treader (an island book, too!):
Where sky and water meet,
Where the waves grow sweet,
Doubt not,
To find all you seek,
There is the utter East.
You cannot try to re-create a childhood experience. That time is gone. The best you can do is create magic for yourself that you can use in your adult memories. Tune in Next Week for Lydia's Orchard Adventures!
I am in Whakatane right now. I have found myself reading the Art of Travel book again when I sat in the bus stop in Auckland to catch the bus to Katikati (or as white Kiwis call it, "catty-cat"). I love it whenever I'm moving, I've decided. I loved the plane over, trips in the car or bus, even walking around with my headphones on. Waiting in the bus station for three hours was fine for me because I was in a liminal space, walking through a door.
I was in one of those double-decker buses and I sat at the top. As the bus pulled out of the station and through the underbelly of downtown Auckland, I had a feeling in my stomach that can only be described as exhilaration. I turned my headphones up, and felt like I was in a movie with the soundtrack playing to my life. I pressed my hands and face to the window, grinning an idiotic gummy expression at the puzzled metropolites below, and occasionally waving. I looked down on the world I used to live in: downtown, Newmarket, Mt Eden...
I saw schoolgirls wearing their uniforms staring at me unsmilingly. I saw women with highlights in their hair and cellphones attached to their heads. I saw the Tip Top ice cream factory I used to stare longingly at on the way out of town. Auckland had moved on without me and it was time for me to move out of it.
I had my first swim in the sea yesterday and felt that same feeling in my stomach. I giggled. I cavorted. I frolicked. I used all those fifties schoolgirl terms to the extreme.
This week has been a nice one for me, and it has been all about trust. Trust that things will happen at the right time. Not stressing out about things beyond my control. This week, the moment I have relaxed and stopped worrying, things have fallen into place, connections have been made properly.
However, the most important thing I have learned this week is: Wherever you go, there you are. You cannot leave your problems behind you. If anything, you confront them more in your private moments on another shore.
Well it's nearly a week into my trip and I've been in Auckland the whole time, basically by myself the whole time because my family and friends are at work. Now I like to pride myself on common sense, but I'm starting to thing that my brain doesn't have as common a supply as I might think. What am I supposed to do with my days if I'm not working or studying? I've done a lot of walking, but getting anywhere is a bit of a challenge because it's mostly walking and guesswork with the buses. I'm not used to not working. I have done a lot of observation, though.
My feet are covered in blisters and my arms, neck and shoulders with hot sunburn that I can feel under my backpack straps. I've lost six pounds. I feel like my old self is being burned out of me, scoured out of me through my constantly sweating flaking skin as I walk, forever searching. My accent is changing by the day, too.
It's hard being in Auckland because my associations with this place are with a fourteen year old girl whose insecurities were the only things that outnumbered her pimples. It makes me feel like the ghost of that girl is still living here. Every hill, every store front, every jandled foot, reminds me of my old life. I think I need to start travelling.
One thing about Auckland, though, is the great sources of information and people to talk to. I like to talk to people on the bus, and to listen to the radio and record interesting parts of the talk radio. The Lord of the Rings win has created a surge of national pride that is shared by everyone. New Zealand over the last week as had more exposure that it's ever had.
There are a lot of hot issues here, and opinions vary. The sound of the cicadas follows me around and reminds me of when I used to play around the hedge as a child. I notice the accents here more than I thought, and I could still moonlight as an AMerican if I wanted to. Speaking of which, there's a lot of anti-American sentiment so perhaps that's not a good idea.
This place is starting to grow on me...
After the two-day road trip from Olympia to Los Angeles (with Marsha Anne farting heartily in the back seat) and the 12 hour flight to Auckland, I've finally made it here. I kept in mind all of De Botton's notions about the liminality of flight, and a very lengthy journal article insues. Six pages actually, i was pretty bored after I ran out of reading material and the film Radio was playing on the plane. When I arrived in Auckland airport I immediately took note of the strong New Zealand accent. I can't help mentally mimicking it whenever someone says something. Of course, some regions have stronger ones than others.
I also noticed the toilets. Toilets seem to always stick in my memory. NZ toilets have a powerful tumble of water, and your refuse is gone David Copperfield-esque.
I'm staying at my dad's right now, but will be changing addresses soon, to Mt Albert, Auckland. I remember a lot of the area, where the shops are etc. The experience is made more surreal by my brother being here. As he said: it's like taking a trip back mentally on a psychiatrist's couch, exploring the corners of my own psyche. We took the bus around Mt Eden. Things are so close together. It's not like WA, where you must have a car. You can be quite independent without one, although my brother and I are looking at buying a little Mini.
It smells wonderful at night here. Night blooming jasmine, honeysuckle and hibiscus permeate the air. I forgot how exotic it was. The people in the streets are friendly and there are a lot more cultures here than there used to be. It's nice to see some variety. There is one problem though: I can't stop eating Burger Rings (a little like Cheetos). I hope everyone else is having a fantastic time.
Love, Lydia
Just when I thought all my affairs were in order, I realized that I had to apply for graduation. AND I had to have a stupid, dumb, stupid Loan Exit Interview, which is probably going to consist of:
"Are you going to pay back the loan?"
"Yes"
"You know that loans have to be paid back, right?"
"Yes"
"Please, please pay back the loan, this is not like borrowing money from Mum and Dad"
"Yes, I know"
"Thank you, Miss Dawe. One Final thing---"
"YEEES!"
And they only have time for interviews on Mondays and Wednesdays from 12-1pm, Well how convenient. Of course they were all booked for this week and next week I'm leaving, but I did manage to reserve a spot for Monday, the day me and Ms.Woofa are journeying to L.A. Any way I HATE deadlines and being unable to do anything about them when I leave.
It's been lovely reading the blogs of others. It's making my feet itchy. (Which reminds me...athlete's foot cream!)
The other thing is, I'm having trouble visualizing my arrival in NZ. I should have some idea, but it's like my mind is refusing to allow me to have expectations about anything. Expectations are such brittle things. And I don't want mine dashed to pieces.
Today I was looking at The New Zealand Herald newspaper and realized that I couldn't read any of the temperatures described in the weather section. So I looked up a little thermometer and did some conversions. The weather looks nice! Especially in Auckland, warm and sunny. Scarily though, there is this UV danger factor rating from one to fifteen, one being the lowest. The rating for Auckland today was 11.5, fried meat factor.
Was looking forward to baring my pristine, ethereal white underbelly to the scorching radioactive sun, but am now reconsidering. I will wander through the wildnerness like a wild ghost. Children will say "What's that mummy?" and the mothers will say that I am one of the Children of the Basement, who plays video games too much, and the same thing will happen to you, young man, if you don't get off your bum.
If I want some color, I was thinking of marinading myself in beer and then rolling in the sand. Interesting, smells like drunk, and a sun protector. Of course I would get relentlessly pecked by seagulls who would think I'm a piece of shell fish left over from someones BBQ.
This morning I had this strange leg cramp that felt like I was having a heart attack in my calf muscle. The muscle itself was contracting violently. This has happened a few times within the past year, and it always happens while I'm asleep and it wrenches me out of consciousness. It hurts like hell. There is absolutely nothing you can do to stop the spasm except grab the area and squeeze it. Today I'm limping around. Anyway, I thought I'd send it out for the world to see. Changed my ideas for the trip (again). I thought I was afraid to go, but now I can't wait to go. I'm so excited. I can't wait to meet up with my classmates in NZ and PARTY! That's right! They don't give a shit how old you are in New Zealand, so DRINK UP! (Sponsored by the Committee For Having A Great Time in New Zealand).
Well, I've been having some strange dreams. I dreamed that Walter tattooed a website on his back because the class couldn't find it on the Internet, I dreamt that my aunt's house was waist-deep in maggots, and last night was the most frustrating. I dreamed that my house was being over run with thirteen-fifteen year old kids. Every room was filled with teenagers jumping on the bed, frolicking around in their underwear (my underwear actually, since they were stealing my clothes) and they'd "modified" my decor. At one point I went into the bathroom to put in my contact lenses and I saw about fifty cases identical to mine, but when opened were filled with things like jelly beans, coins, orange jello, etc. My vision was all fuzzy and I was feeling vulnerable, so I started yelling at various blurry shapes, but they didn't know what I was talking about.
Then for some reason I decided to have a shower, but because I was half-blind, it wasn't until I was naked and showering did I realize that the bathroom was full of people watching TV and the shower curtain was a few thin strips of fabric. That's when I woke up- sore and agitated, feeling like I hadn't slept a wink and had done all this worrying for nothing. (AND THERE WAS A MYSTERIOUS FIFTEEN YEAR OLD BOY LYING NEXT TO ME!!! ha, ha just kidding)
Actually, I was covered in orange jello. I can't explain that one.
I think that my stubborn thought processes are finally starting to understand the computer. I'm reminded of when I was in Metalwork class and couldn't use the soldering iron, for some reason. Anyway, the screen has stopped flickering, so that's a good sign.