Newsflash Reciprocity

I have to request a favor from my coal region readers. If I share silly Kiwi news with you, will you share silly Skook news with me? I have been unable to access the Pottsville Republican (my hometown newspaper) website since my arrival in New Zealand. I suspect the problem has something to do with terribly outdated technology in Schuylkill County.

There goes one of my most cherished morning rituals! Which of my former classmates was arrested this weekend? What relative-of-an-acquaintance is in the obituaries and what was his/her crazy nickname back in the day? Who fell into a stripping pit? What is the latest hate crime? If you find the answers, please copy and paste the article into an email. I'd hate to lose my roots.

Newsflash, Part III

Happy Labor Day, Americans! If I had a job, I'd be jealous of your 3 day weekend. Spend your extra day off reading NZ's most interesting news:

• Article #1 -"Hills aren't supposed to move at all." Finally, a Kiwi who speaks my language.
• Article #2 justifies my decision not to live in a van. Be on the lookout for a man with a fat face and stomach! What I find most curious is that the "nice safe place" the girls stayed after the attack is the home of a man they met that night who hunted them down because they didn't immediately return a text message. Hmm, does he happen to have a fat face?
• Article #3 - Lighten up, redheads!
• Article #4 - Auckland's mayor loves a party.
• Article #5 - If you're looking for the young Kiwi male, don't come to New Zealand. This man drought warning is a day late and a dollar short.

Storytime

Given the price of reading material, it’s a wonder that the Kiwis are a literate people. A paperback book costs at least $30 (about 24 US dollars). Hardcover, forget it. People magazine (not that I read such drivel; I prefer The Economist) is over $20. Fashion magazines are closer to $30. Even the Australian and local NZ magazines are over $10. To add insult to injury, there is a 10 cent charge for a plastic bag at the bookstore.

This naturally leads me to the Wellington library. It is a very nice place, but there are some odd rules. First of all, it is not exactly free. There are fees to access the internet, to borrow bestseller books, magazines, all CDs, all DVDs, and books on tape. The charge for interlibrary loan is $14. Basically, the books that no one wants to read are free. The application process for a library card is quite involved. There is a thick welcome packet, and I have to provide the name and address of a reference who does not live with me. Excuse me?? I want to read “He’s Just Not That Into You,” not apply for a mortgage. Plus, my NZ friendships are not ready for this level of intimacy. This is a good motivator for the prompt return of books. I’d be embarrassed if my acquaintances became responsible for my library fines.

I borrow "Angela's Ashes," which I’ve been meaning to read for approximately the last decade. Wow, perfect timing. Frank McCourt's description of his childhood in 1930s Ireland sounds eerily similar to my current living conditions in Wellington.

• "Above all - we were wet... Out in the Atlantic Ocean great sheets of rain gathered to drift slowly up the River Shannon and settle down forever in Limerick. The rain dampened the city from the Feast of Circumcision to New Year's Eve. It created a cacophony of hacking coughs, bronchial rattles, asthmatic wheezes, consumptive croaks. It turned noses into fountains, lungs into bacterial sponges... From October to April the walls of Limerick glistened with the damp. Clothes never dried: tweed and woolen coats housed living things, sometimes sprouted mysterious vegetations. In pubs, steam rose from damp bodies and garments to be inhaled with cigarette and pipe smoke laced with the stale fumes of spilled stout and whiskey and tinged with the odor of piss wafting from the outdoor jakes where many a man puked up his wages."

Newsflash, Part II

Didn't I tell you the Kiwis are lackadaisical about their landslides? The photo caption accompanying this article is "Slip Sliding Away." As we await the destruction of our homes, what is there to do but mellow out to some Simon and Garfunkel? If you're like me, this song will be stuck in your head all day. You're welcome.

Newsflash, Part I

The New Zealand news can be a bit... strange. I will post relevant examples on the blog. Let's begin with this story. We are in the middle of a national crisis because young Kiwis do not have the self-confidence required to boil an egg.

I was also wary of New Zealand's unrefrigerated eggs, but I've been assured this is common egg storage practice outside of the US.

Cold, continued

I bet you thought there was nothing further to say about the heating (or lack thereof) situation in this country. Don't underestimate me! A few recent developments...

1) It hadn't occurred to me that the gas in our propane heater would actually run out from time to time. This is a sad realization. What was once a luxury has become a real event - pile in the car, go to the gas station, refill, drive home, carry that heavy tank up the GD mountain (thank you, Dawn). What a giant pain in the ass. I feel like a pioneer woman going out to chop my own firewood.

2) The Kiwi ingenuity is rubbing off on me. I will now place my laptop computer (essentially an outdated, overheated paperweight) under the covers before bedtime for added warmth.

3) "Home Fire Safety: It's in Your Hands" - My fear of being set ablaze isn't unfounded according to an advertising campaign from the NZ Fire Service. A few of my favorite ads:

• Fireman #1 tells me the main cause of fire is "men, women and children." The video shows an armchair in flames. The voiceover says many people die before firefighters arrive at the scene.


• Fireman #2 tells me to remember the "Heater Meter Rule." I am to keep all furnishings at least 1 meter away from my electric heater. I've been positioning the heater as close to my face as possible without allowing it to touch the bed.
  
• Fireman #3 warns me of the dangers of cooking under the influence. "If you're having a few right now, don't drink and fry. Get some takeaways delivered instead. Cheers!" Watch here.
  
• Fireman #4 tells me to inspect my electric blanket for signs of wear. If in doubt, "have it checked by your local sparky; easy!" Watch here.

Note to self: Buy electric blanket. Schedule bedroom inspection with a sparky of the young Kiwi male variety.

Olympic Fever

I have always enjoyed the Olympics. I have always loved the Olympics. Okay, I have always been obsessed with the Olympics. Never was this obsession more apparent than during the 1994 winter games in Lillehammer.

• A poster of speedskater Dan Jansen hung on my bedroom wall. I recorded his races on VHS.
• I submitted a drawing of speedskater Bonnie Blair for publication in Sports Illustrated for Kids, and I can’t even draw.
• I wrote a play about the Nancy/Tonya figure skating scandal that I performed with my siblings. Four-year-old Michael played a very convincing Jeff Gillooly. I believe that role is what led him to pursue a degree in film studies.
• I developed my own Olympic sport. Deck Diving involved jumping into snow banks from our back deck. I took the gold of course. If I remember correctly, Nicole and Megan rounded out the medal count.
• My friends and I began a letter-writing campaign to the US Bobsled Federation to petition for the inclusion of women in the sport. Girl power! Maureen: adolescent activist. The very nice response informed me the nearest practice course was in Lake Placid, NY, and encouraged me to follow my dreams. And that is how I became the champion bobsledder I am today. In all seriousness, I was very proud when female bobsledding became an Olympic event in 2002. I watched from the couch, eating a bowl of ice cream.
• To summarize - I don't think I received enough stimulation in school.

I overshare so you can understand the depth of my disappointment when I missed the first week of the Beijing Olympics due to lack of TV. I caught the second week though, and it was very interesting to see how the games are covered in a different country.

New Zealand won 9 medals in total, which was a great showing. This includes a gold medal in windsurfing – no surprise there. The Kiwis are so proud of their athletes! Even the silver and bronze winners get a lot of press coverage. The Kiwis vote online for their favorite NZ Olympian, who is awarded a new car. The winner was Mahe Drysdale, a rower who was a shoo-in for gold but only got bronze due to illness. He probably would have been kicked out of America. During the closing ceremony, the commentators paid tribute to all the Kiwi athletes who finished in 4th place. Losers.

Unlike the US, the Kiwis are interested in athletes from other countries. Michael Phelps was a big story. They kept repeating a clip in which he is asked about a visit to NZ. He says something like, “It is a beautiful country, but I think I was there during the rainy season.” I hear ya, Mike. There were also some grumblings about America. The most popular Olympic events occurred during the middle of the day when most Kiwis (not me!) were working. They blame the US, which has conspired with the IOC to ensure those events always coincide with American prime time.

We may have been streaming the BBC feed at times, so I can't attribute all this to the Kiwis, but the commentary was very blunt. They said things like: “He really blew that one.” “She’ll be watching the next round from the bench.” “Four years of hard work down the toilet.” The boxing commentary was especially entertaining: “He’s taking more shots than an alcoholic!” “He went all Tom Sizemore on him!” “Stiffer than a box of Viagra!”

New Zealand really sticks it to China. There was some problem in which a team of 6 athletes received only 4 medals. The Kiwi reporter said, “In a country known for its fakes, it shouldn’t be difficult to find replacements.”

Correction

My mom is concerned this blog may be portraying her in a negative light. She would defend herself in the comments, if only she could figure out how to leave a comment. For the record - she is a wonderful mother and I love her very much, even if she did let me get frostbite and rotten teeth.

A quick lesson for everyone - click the "comments" link at the end of each post. Type in your comment, then click the "name/URL" bubble. Type in your name (so I know you're not a stalker) and click "publish your comment." I enjoy hearing from you!

Sugar Fix

To know me is to know that I subsist entirely on sugar-covered sugar. I scoff at baked goods, but please don’t mess with my Skittles. For all you candy lovers out there, let’s explore what the Land of the Long White Cloud has to offer.

Pineapple Lumps – I try to overlook the unappetizing name (reminds me of a turd) and give this famous Kiwi candy a fair shot. It has been sold in New Zealand since 1935. Blech, gross. It is fake marshmallowy pineapple (that does not taste like pineapple) covered in bad chocolate. Available in bar form or bite-sized lumps.

Fruitburst – Does anyone remember Bonkers?? (Yes, I will respectfully capitalize the candy names.) This was one of my favorite childhood candies (available for purchase only at Turkey Hill), but I’ve been accused of making it up. It was a Starburst-type fruit chew with a juicy yet still solid center, a little bite of heaven. But I digress. Back to the Fruitburst- It is the most similar thing I’ve found to a Bonker and it will be an acceptable substitute for the Starburst this year. I’ve only seen traditional Starburst in a few stores, but I have seen plenty of…

STARBURST SQUIRTS CRAZY BABIES!!! – I share your reaction: what the hell?? This is a gummy candy shaped like a BABY with a tummy full of jelly. The packaging shows a masochistic little tot squeezing the juicy intestines out of his own stomach. That baby really is crazy. This is disturbing on so many levels. I apologize, dear readers, you’ll have to try this one for yourselves. Cannibalism is not my game. What’s next – Starburst Squirts Zitty Teens?

Smarties Chocolate Bar – I squeal with delight when I spot this treat. I haven’t been this excited about a candy since the Pat Barrett Clairvoyant Tootsie Pop Revelation of 2007. Can you think of a more perfect pairing than Smarties and chocolate? No, you can’t. Well, it turns out that Kiwi smarties (undeserving of the capital S) are not the same as American Smarties. This is basically a chocolate bar with pieces of chocolate and M&M shell. Redundant and disappointing.

Hi-Chews – I find these almost by accident. Isn’t that how the best things in life happen? Dawn and I are at dinner and discover the restaurant, despite its extensive wine list, does not serve alcohol. Don’t worry–I hightail it out of there to an Asian food market next door for wine. I notice an interesting Japanese candy called Hi-Chews at the checkout counter. I buy a pack of the strawberry variety. Ohmygodiaminloveandmusthavemore. I return the next day to buy a pack in every flavor – strawberry, strawberry yoghurt (yes, with an “h”), blueberry yoghurt, banana, mango, kiwi, peach, grape, green apple. These last me... umm, an embarrassingly short time.

Now how did I overlook this delicious Japanese candy when I was actually in Japan?? It would have come in handy because I was starving throughout the vacation. My chopsticks skills are severely lacking. Dexterous Kelly and Kevin left me in the dust at every meal. I had no choice but to fill up on beer and cotton candy at the karaoke hall.

It's only right that I dedicate this post to my best candy-loving compadres.

• To Kristen: Thank you for introducing me to the NYC mecca that is Dylan’s Candy Bar.
• To Molly: I’ll forgive the time you led me astray with yo-gos and focus on the good times we’ve shared over sourpatch watermelons.
• To Pat: I have nothing but respect for a grown man who eats Nerds.
• Finally, to my fellow MCs: Thank goodness our parents didn’t give a damn about nutrition.

Scrabulous!

For the first time in weeks, I have an "appointment." I meet my new Irish friend Caroline for lunch. Lunch involves wine followed by shopping. We try to get into an Alice in Wonderland-themed club, but it is closed at 4pm on a weekday. Go figure. That doesn't stop Caroline from squeezing through a gate to scope out the club for the future. I'm too much of a baby (or a law-abiding citizen) to follow. She is promptly escorted out by a man with a padlock. We go to a bar to drink beer and eat fruitburst (similar to starburst). Then we go to another bar for wine and scrabble night. Booze, candy, board games... this is my kind of girl! I get my butt kicked at scrabble. Does anyone know that aa is a type of lava? Anyone?? This is all good fun for a Tuesday, but we decide that we need to really go out this weekend. I don't want to get all "single white female," but I may have to ask her to be my NZ BFF.

The Color of Money

I'm in line at the bank, and a cute teller waves me forward. Could this be the young Kiwi male I've heard so much about? He is very enthusiastic. He asks, "Where abouts is your accent from?" Most people automatically assume you are from the US, then suddenly get nervous that they've made a big mistake. They hastily add "...or Canada?" The teller asks, "What do you reckon of the notes?" I hadn't given this much thought. The NZ bills vary in shade and size depending on the denomination. I say, "Oh I like them. They're very... colorful." He seems pleased by this answer, but I feel the need to continue. "The clear cut-outs are pretty cool." I suddenly feel like Baby in Dirty Dancing -- I carried a watermelon??

The NZ bills are made of plastic. The teller shakes his head in shame and recounts the difficulty he experienced with American paper money. "I kept ripping the notes!" Just how rough is this musclebound teller?! I made it 27 years in the US without destroying my money. I reply, "Yes, these are much more... durable." Are we really having this conversation? We finish our banking transaction and he tells me that Taco Bell is what he misses most about the US. He and his mates had 10 meals there, and drove 3km each time. I, too, miss my mexican pizza.

Another observation about NZ currency -- the smallest bill is $5. Coins are issued in $2, $1, 50, 20 and 10 cent denominations. However, the prices (especially at the supermarket) do not end in round numbers. Items might cost $1.89 or $2.53. At the checkout counter, the final amount is rounded to the nearest 10 cents. The 5 cent coins were discontinued in 2006. The old 5 cent pieces are no longer legal tender, but the DMV stockpiles them for distribution to people taking their written drivers' test on a lottery style scratch-off card. The Kiwis are ever so resourceful.

Baby, It's Cold Inside

I spent 8 years braving blizzards in New England and upstate New York. I figure this winter will be cake because temperatures in the NZ north island don't dip below the 40s. I was wrong. I am freezing. No buildings in this backwards country have central heating. The temperature is fine for walking outside in a winter jacket, but there is a problem when I have to wear that jacket in the kitchen. I promised myself I wouldn't accumulate more clothes this year, but I've already purchased a hoodie, cardigan and turtleneck out of sheer necessity. Our house is getting a new roof this year and the owner is considering adding insulation. I'm informed of a pink material that helps trap in the heat. Yes, what a novel idea.

In lieu of insulation, the Kiwis rely on a number of antiquated alternatives/fire hazards for warmth. Forget the electric blanket - you can buy a full electric bedding set, including the bottom fitted sheet. It is available in waterproof form so the Kiwi youth and/or drunkards aren't electrocuted when they piss the bed. Pre-war hot water bottles are sold everywhere. Electric space heaters are commonplace and wholly inadequate. I was raised to regard these as dangerous objects. One spark could wipe out an entire block in Ashland. There is a portable propane gas heater in our living room. This concerns us. Dawn worries about long term health risks - the adverse effects of inhaling propane, the possibility of spawning mutant children. I worry about the short term risk - a deadly explosion.

I go to bed nervous that either the electric heaters in the bedrooms will torch the place or we'll be poisoned overnight because I've failed to properly close the gas valve in the living room. I suppose the latter would be more peaceful. I'd be discovered curled in the fetal position in bed, wearing 2 layers of pajamas, wrapped burrito-style in a fleece throw, buried under 3 more layers of blankets. You cannot move a muscle in bed because any surface area of sheet or pillow not already touching your body is freezing cold. I contemplate taking a lover solely for the benefit of extra body heat. Just kidding (sort of). Or maybe I'll invite Dawn across the hallway for an old-fashioned slumber party.

This takes me back to circa 1993 when my parents renovated our attic into a bedroom so I could finally be rid of that pesky little sister who kept me awake with her late night partying. The contractor told them not to heat the attic because "heat rises" and everything would be fine as long as the door stayed open. Bullshit. I wore a hat and mittens to bed every night - partly to keep warm, mostly to prove a point. It worked :) I had my own thermostat by winter 1994. I somehow doubt my whining will cause the same mindset shift in Kiwi society that it did in my parents.

RIP, Oral-B

My new roommate Vanessa tells me, "I noticed your toothbrush and toothpaste on the windowsill. Be careful because if anything falls out the bathroom window, it goes right down the side of the mountain and you can't get it back." I say: Okay, thanks for letting me know. I think: Puh-leeze. Don't tell me where to put my toiletries. I'm a grown woman. I'm not going to drop my toothbrush out the window. Three mornings later, I drop my toothbrush right out the freakin' window.

In other unsolicited advice, the roommate warns me to beware of the young Kiwi male. She is British, but has lived in NZ for almost 3 years so I suppose she has learned her lesson.

Home Gym

Dawn and I find an apartment in the Hataitai region of Wellington with a 3rd roommate. Hataitai is on the side of Mount Victoria. The reward for climbing the mountain is a beautiful panoramic view of Evans Bay, Lyall Bay, and the Miramar peninsula. This picture is looking out the living room window.

I am sore for days after lugging furniture up this godforsaken mountain. The man who delivers my bed asks if anyone is available to help. "Well it's just me so... no." But I don't have an alternative. My legs are covered in bruises because whenever it gets too heavy (which is every 5 seconds), I stop and rest all the weight on my thighs.

I'm in reasonable shape, but the 10 minute walk home from the bus stop leaves me in the same condition as a 1 hour spinning class. Pedestrian walkways allow you to avoid the zig-zag roads and their hairpin turns. Depending on which bus stop I choose, this "shortcut" involves either 151 stairs or a vertical pavement. Momentum forces you to trot, not walk, down the shortcut. The journey up the shortcut is grueling. I'm huffing and puffing; my heart is pounding; my hamstrings are burning. With every step, I repeat to myself, "tight ass, tight ass, tight ass." All this hard work better leave me with something good to show.

After the shortcut, you continue uphill for a few minutes. A brief reprieve of flat road then gives you just enough time to catch your breath before reaching our front step. Don't get too excited - you still have to climb 61 more steps to the front door. And those 61 steps are interspersed with ramps. Most of the walkway is fenced in, but not all. This picture shows me at the path's narrowest section, about 1 foot wide. On one side is a drop off to the road 20 feet below. On the other side is overgrown bush that invades your 12 inches of personal space, threatening to knock you over. This strikes me as a legitimate danger, but the Kiwis take it all in stride. Our landlady observes, "I see there's been a bit of a slip" (pronounced: beet of a sleep). A bit of a slip? She means a landslide. As in, the earth supporting the walkway is crumbling away. These barricaded "sleeps" are a common sight around Hataitai.

Click here for a pictorial tour of our apartment and neighborhood.

Capital F

Contrary to popular belief, Auckland is not the capital of New Zealand. That honor belongs to my new hometown of Wellington. Dawn and I tour Parliament and the Beehive, a building shaped like a (you guessed it) beehive that houses government offices. The lobby displays a tattered New Zealand flag that was found in the ruins of the World Trade Center after 9/11. The tour stops at a collection of banners from various NZ allies. The guide picks up one particular banner and winks at us: "You American ladies might be familiar with this one." Yes, it was red white and blue, but it was embroidered "Republic de Chile."

Parliament is in session today, so we sit in the public gallery to observe. It entertains us for 2 full hours. There is a lot of shouting and nonsense. "Is the minister of police aware that crime is intimately tied to drug and alcohol abuse?" Umm, yeah. Nothing is accomplished. "The minister may not have answered the question, but he did address the question." But wait... I'm about to witness history. For the first time ever, the F-word (and I don't mean filibuster!) is uttered on the floor of New Zealand Parliament. This is discussed in the newspaper. What an honor to have been present.

The guard chats us up when we collect our belongings from security. He is heartbroken because his son and American daughter-in-law are absconding to Texas with his grandkids. Poor guy. He is very interested in why we're here and recommends places to visit. His final recommendation is to beware of the young Kiwi male.

Wellywood

Wellington is a cool little city on the southern tip of the north island. This is the departure point for the ferry ride to the south island. Dawn and I decide to settle here for the time being. "Wellywood" prides itself on being the cultural capital of New Zealand. This is the place to be for theatre, art, film and music. It kind of has an indie feel, at least compared to Auckland. There are heaps (as the Kiwis would say) of little shops, cafes and bars. The downtown area, called CBD (central business district), is compact and walkable. New Zealand's national museum, Te Papa (Maori for "Our Place"), is located on the harbor. The walk along the harbor and Oriental Bay waterfront is very pretty. From there, you can walk/hike to the top of Mount Victoria for a 360 degree view of the city.

Click here for pictures of Wellington, the windiest city in the southern hemisphere.

Relax, Take It Easy

The 12 hour bus ride from Auckland to Wellington flies by because the scenery is so beautiful. I think the hills are covered in white rocks. Then I realize... those are all sheep! Where do they come from? Does anyone own them? I'm amazed. New Zealand has something like 4 million people and 40 million sheep. I'm very excited to see more of the countryside and to travel to the south island when the weather improves. That is where the cool kids spend the summer.

Our little pixie bus driver is so polite that it seems like an act. She requests that we please pick up our rubbish at each stop because other people will hop on the bus when we hop off and it's just not very nice for them to sit in our rubbish. American translation: clean up your shit. She asks if we could please try not to push the red button above our seats because it will set off an unpleasant alarm. American translation: do not push the red button; no justification required. She warns us of a small wet spot on the left side of the bottom step at the rear exit, but she really hopes it will dry up by the next stop. American translation: none - you'll learn for yourself when you slip and fall. She says seat belt use is required; "however this is up to you."

Our windshield wipers die early in the trip. It is pouring rain (this is New Zealand after all). No need to panic; no need for repair. The driver is just going to "take it easy."

All Blacks Pummel Australia

After hearing Colin's rugby stories, there is no way I'm going to miss the big NZ vs. Australia match. I plan to watch with some people I met this week. I'm under the impression our group will be mixed gender and mixed levels of sports knowledge, but it is just me, 3 British guys and 1 Kiwi guy who are very into rugby. We go to a hole-in-the-wall pub, Dog's Bollocks, and they immediately order whiskey. I wonder if this was a smart idea. I mentally re-trace the route home in case I need to leave. But I hold my own :) The pub quickly fills up, and everyone happily sings along to the national anthem. The All Blacks begin each match with the haka, a traditional Maori dance meant to intimidate the opponent. The crowd goes wild. The table next to us is filled with women in their 60s who are going through beer as fast as anyone else in the place.

After the match, we go to the clubs to celebrate NZ's victory. The Kiwis love their early 90s dance music. Then again, who doesn't enjoy a little C&C Music Factory once in a while? I stay out until 5am even though I have to catch a bus to Wellington at 8am. Ugh. As we part ways, one of the guys plays it real cool and asks, "So what are your plans for Christmas?" (It is August 2nd.) He wonders if I want to barbecue a chicken on the beach. Sure, mate.

Rugby School

We are the only 2 people at a Friday afternoon tour of the Red Lion Brewery in Auckland. The tour is supposed to end with a 20 minute taste test. This turns into an hour of drinking and chatting with Colin, a nice Kiwi gentleman who has retired from running his online wine shop and now gives brewery tours "5 times fortnightly." He is a bit quiet until I inquire about tomorrow's big match-up between the NZ All Blacks (national rugby team) and Australia. Although he claims not to be a big fan, he lights up and talks on and on about the sport. We learn about rugby's place in NZ culture, the rules of the game, how it compares with American football, and the inside scoop on tomorrow's match. There is some added drama because the Australian coach is a Kiwi who was denied the job of NZ All Blacks' head coach. Colin played rugby into his late 20s, at which point his wife warned him, "I think you ought to have a think about this." With 3 previous broken noses, the doctors said a 4th would require a bone graft from his hip. Colin's parting advice to us - beware of the young Kiwi male.

Please meteorologist, don't hurt 'em

New Zealand's weather is so variable that the TV weather report covers one small region of the country at a time. This takes forever. After the weatherman gives his verbal report, the graphics switch to a weather map of New Zealand that slowly scrolls from south to north. The background music is MC Hammer's "Can't Touch This." Seriously.

Click here for a pictorial overview of the winter weather. The rain is almost constant; sometimes there is horizontal hail. It's been said that Eskimos have over 100 words for snow. The same is true of Kiwis and their rain... Squally showers turning to rain (I didn't even know the word "squall" could be used in adjective form, but it now makes perfect sense to me). Showers giving way to drizzle. Rain, becoming heavy. Rainy showers.

For a city that gets so much rain, I have to question Auckland's choice of flooring materials. Many of the outdoor plazas are tile. There is a "slippery when wet" sign on every corner. And believe me, they're not lying. My tailbone is on alert.

If the pounding rain doesn't wake you in the middle of the night, the howling wind will take care of it. The city buses have TV monitors to show the forecast, which is both depressing and amusing.

• Friday - strong northwesterlies
• Saturday - gusty northwesterlies
• Sunday - strong gusty northwesterlies
• Monday - fresh northwesterlies
• Tuesday - northwesterly wind turning southwest

My First Adventure

It is day 2 in New Zealand, the extreme sports capital of the world, and I decide it is high time to do something crazy. Auckland is very urban, but you can easily find adventure. I do a sky jump, which is a base jump by wire off the Sky Tower, the tallest building in the southern hemisphere. I am told this is good preparation for bungee jumping. If I hadn't suited up and paid on the ground level, I may have changed my mind during the glass elevator ride up to the platform. I am so scared that I walk into a glass wall that I mistook for an open doorway. I walk the plank, lean forward with my toes over the edge and grip the handles on either side of me. You're supposed to leap when the countdown ends, but my response is more like a reluctant release of the handles. The view is amazing, the rush is intense, and it is over in a split second.

Click here for more pictures from the Sky Tower and the rest of our week in Auckland.

Shaky Start

We arrive at our hostel in Auckland at 7:45am, but reception doesn't open until 8:00am. There is a torrential downpour. By the grace of God, a guest opens the door so we can spend those 15 minutes inside. The receptionist advises us to buy a van for travelling and sleep in it to save money on accommodations. In my sleep deprived state, I take this as a command rather than a preposterous suggestion. Dawn does not look horrified, which horrifies me even further. I'm not really a sleeping-in-the-van type of lady. Our room/cell is pictured to the right. Don't let her smile fool you. This place is dingy, COLD and cramped. Cue internal freak out. Oh my god. This is not what I signed up for. What have I done?! I gave up my whole life for this?! I climb under the covers and curse my poor decision making skills. My attitude improves after a full day of sleep.

Arrival in Auckland

My first impression - the Auckland airport is 100 times nicer than LAX. It takes 2 hours to get through immigration and customs. No one checks any documentation required for my visa. Throughout the airport, there are many signs warning of the stiff penalties for bringing food into the country. I ignore this and assume "food" refers only to produce. They are also very strict about inspecting boots and camping equipment for foreign soil. The warning signs increase in frequency the further I progress through customs. At the last minute, I get really nervous. I'm packing and I can't find a trash can. When asked point blank if I have any food, I crumble. "Well, I might have a granola bar in my checked baggage." The customs officer says, "Oh I don't think you do," and waves me through. Thus, I have successfully smuggled 3 Nature Valley oats n' honey granola bars across international waters. Badass.

The Letter Zed

There is plenty of time to kill on the 13 hour plane ride to New Zealand. Click here to hear Lewis Black describe the journey. Dawn and I skim through the in-flight magazine. Every place we would normally use the letter Z, they use the letter S (organise, realise, etc). I wonder aloud, "maybe they just don't use the letter Z at all." Dawn gives me a quizzical look... "What about Zealand?" Touche', girlfriend.

After arriving in New Zealand, I learn the letter Z is pronounced "zed." The Kiwis proudly incorporate their initials into the names of everyday items. You can't buy beans in the supermarket, but you can buy beaNZ. They Kiwis are also quick to point out whenever they have the biggest/best/first [insert item here] in all of the southern hemisphere.

A Pre-Vacation Vacation

Dawn and I spend 3 days in Los Angeles to break up the trip and bask in a final few days of summer before entering the New Zealand winter. My formerly trusty GPS craps out on day 1. I can't get us out of the airport parking lot, but luckily Dawn has a sense of direction.

See more pictures from Los Angeles here.

The highlight was attending a taping of "Family Feud." Dawn doesn't share my enthusiasm for game shows, but she plays along. Surprisingly, I am the one to get scolded by the production staff for not clapping with enough enthusiasm. John O'Hurley is a very attractive man in person, but hosting a game show involves more than looking pretty. He mispronounces "feud," so the show's introduction has to be re-taped. A question from the fast money bonus round: "What year high school reunion draws the biggest crowd?" The man answers 88 (I can only assume he graduated in 1988). Buzzzz - no points. The #1 answer is the 10 year reunion. I find this hilarious because my brother and I wasted many hours last week watching game show bloopers on youtube. Watch this video for a similar misunderstanding from Family Feud bonus rounds past.

I later learn that we narrowly missed an earthquake in LA. I'm slightly disappointed. Is that morbid? The earthquake video shown on New Zealand news is from a Judge Judy taping. Judy (and Judge Joe Brown) just so happens to tape in the same studio as... Family Feud!

The Journey Begins!

I like my cakes multifunctional -- this was a delicious dessert that doubled as a map of New Zealand. It was a handy tool because I decided to move across the world without much research or planning. My friend Dawn told me she was moving and asked if I wanted to join her. I immediately said no. Then I thought, "what do I have to lose?" A very wise man in a bar advised me: "Before you know it, you'll be 40, overweight and divorced." Fast forward a few months... I quit my job (sort of), quit graduate school, sold my worldly possessions, and hopped on a plane with 2 way-too-heavy suitcases.

I hope this blog will be a good way to keep in touch with everyone at home. I initially thought blogging seemed a bit self-important, so please know that I write this with full awareness of the banality of my life :) I'll begin with a big THANK YOU to all the family and friends who have encouraged this adventure. I appreciate your support! Click here for pictures from summer bon voyage parties.

Happy reading, and I welcome your comments!