The Oscars

Did you watch the Academy Awards on Sunday? I did not, but if I'm to believe the local media, the ceremony revolved around New Zealand. Did you also come away with that impression?

Host Hugh Jackman, star of the major motion picture Australia, joked: "Because of the recession, everything is being downsized. Next year, I'll be starring in a movie called New Zealand." I might consider that an insult, but the Kiwis embraced it. Thrilled to be included in the spotlight, they printed the joke on the front page of the newspaper. There's no such thing as bad publicity!

The front page story also pointed out that Best Actress winner Kate Winslet thanked Kiwi Peter Jackson in her acceptance speech because he directed her in her first movie.

Where would Hollywood be without New Zealand?

Buck Nekkid

And to think that one short week ago my biggest worry was barefoot Kiwis...

That is the least of my concerns after spending 2 nights at a "clothing optional" campground. I imagined this meant a small section of the beach would allow topless sunbathing. Ok, I can deal with that. But I was not prepared for a full-on nudist camp. You see, the thing about nudists is... they're NUDE. Everything you have heard is true. These are not the people you want to see naked. Gravity and time have taken their toll. It is very awkward and you don't know where to direct your eyes. I saw only one attractive man at this camp. Sadly, he was fully clothed.

The nudist camp's damage to my eyesight was offset by the boost to my self-esteem. If you're having body image issues, I highly recommend a trip to a nudist camp. You'll feel more young and perky and desirable than ever. I PROMISE.

I heard some people complaining that the camp had put too many restrictions on nudity in recent years. Apparently, it used to be all naked, all the time. Now you have to wear a towel or sarong when moving to and from your campsite, the pool, or the beach. I've never seen such tiny or loosely draped towels. One man's version of "wearing" a towel involved putting it over his shoulder and letting it hang just low enough to cover his business. A woman walked into the kitchen wearing a button-down shirt that was hiked up to here and unbutonned down to there. In a sudden showing of modesty, she held up a slice of bread in an attempt to cover her bosom. Honey, you're going to need a whole loaf! I also saw a lot of cheesy silk robes. I'm surprised there weren't more mustaches.

I simply don't understand the appeal of being a nudist. Perhaps you want to avoid those pesky tan lines? Fine, but why do you have to read the newspaper naked? And why do you have to eat breakfast naked? Any why, for the love of god, do you have to put up or take down a tent naked? That activity requires a lot of stretching and bending. And if I was a nudist, I think I'd want to be around only other like-minded people; not next to some prudish American girl who is going to blog about my jiggling thighs. But these people really don't care. Inhibitions be damned!

The big question of course is - did I get naked? Yes I did! In the shower. Hold up... you may not realize what a rebellious action that is at a nudist camp. Signs posted outside the bathroom said: "Please do not wear clothing or togs (swimsuit) in the shower." Really?! Am I to understand that these nudists walk around in their birthday suit all day and then slip into some clothing for their showers?? Everything is backwards in the southern hemishpere.

I leave you with this piece of lyrical advice from Jermaine Stewart: We don't have to take our clothes off to have a good time, oh no.

Newsflash, Part XXXVII

The reader poll in Tuesday's edition of the Wellington's Dominion Post newspaper asked: Do you think an H should be added to Wanganui's (north island town) name?

About 70% of readers said "no" and I agree. Why change it now? However, the poll may not be as silly as it seems on the surface. Changing the town name to Whanganui would change the pronunciation and be a more accurate reflection of its Maori heritage. The Maori "wh" is pronounced like "f."

In addition to English, Maori is an official language of NZ. I rarely hear the language spoken on the street, but Maori was used in all official communications in my government job and it figures prominently in the names of NZ locations.

Take the town of Whakatane for example. Here, you can quickly separate the Kiwis from the wannabes. The tourists refer to this place as "wok-a-tain." However, any true Kiwi (or N to the Zed reader) knows that the correct pronunciation is "fok-a-taw-nee."

Now you know!

That's Life!

I've previously mentioned that American "name brand" magazines can cost about $20 in NZ. Even the Australian or British Vogue costs over $10. To address this problem, the NZ publishing world produces a few genuine Kiwi magazines. They sell for about $3. My favorites are That's Life! and NZ Women's Weekly. They cover a little bit of everything - celebrity gossip, recipes, childcare, good housekeeping, human interest stories. (Remember I told you about this country's lack of specialization??)

From the cheesy pictures to the bad writing to the 4th grade word search puzzles, you will not regret spending the $3. They provide hours of entertainment. These magazines are like the newspapers I used to self-publish with markers and construction paper as a child.

The magazines tend to pilfer interviews from other publications and pass them off as their own. I'm pretty sure Michelle Obama did not grant an exclusive interview with That's Life! magazine. And I'm really sure she didn't refer to herself as Malia and Sasha's "mum" or discuss strategies for keeping off extra "kilos." Mom? Maybe. Pounds? Maybe. But you can't alter direct quotes to suit your audience! It makes me question the accuracy of the whole magazine. Maybe Becks hasn't left Posh after all?

Celeb storis are a big draw, but, ironically, That's Life! tends to mostly cover death. If your family has suffered a horrible tragedy, the magazine will pay you $800 for your story. These are honest-to-goodness article titles from the past few months:

• Kiwi Confession: I Ponged Out (stunk up) My Mate's Home
• NZ Exclusive: My Baby Girl was Killed on the Beach
• Mozzie (mosquito) Danger!
• NZ Funeral Fury: Bodysnatchers Stole my Aunt's Casket
• Kiwi Survivor Tale: Shipwrecked in Fiji
• Is this the Unluckiest Kiwi? Knocked out. Impaled. Electrocuted. Broken Nose. Car crashes.
• My Daughter Choked to Death on an Apple
• My Husband Cut Off My Lover's Penis (A fate worse than death! Oh wait... around paragraph 2, we learn that the husband also killed the lover. Minor detail.)

The Kiwis' respsonse to all this doom and gloom? Oh well, That's Life!
It goes hand-in-hand with the country's "she'll be right" attitude.

A Match Made in New Zealand

This country hasn't exactly caught on to the concept of specialization. Stores often combine their goods/services in strange ways. Some of my favorite NZ combos:

• RiceBowlBurgerBarn (all one word)
• EspressoCarWashCafe (also one one)
• Sign on the road: "For Sale - Ponies and Garlic" (Where to begin with this one?)
• Body Piercing and Colour Copying (Where to begin with this one?)
• Laundry and Internet (This turns out to be the best pairing since chocolate and peanut butter!)

Fox Glacier

The Kiwis are in no way pretentious, but I roll my eyes everytime I heard them pronounce "glass-EE-er" instead of "glay-sure." My hike on Fox Glacier was not as scary as bungy jumping, but I am certain that it was much more dangerous. These are just a few of the reasons why:

• Death - Two Australians were killed by falling debris in January. In the glacier's defense, these people had climbed over the marked barriers.


• Fatigue - In order to reach the ice, you must climb up a mountain. There are a series of steps built into the mountain. You might ask, "How many steps, Maureen?" Seven hundred. Seven hundred! These are steep two-at-a-time steps and you are carrying about 5 extra pounds of heavy hiking boot (not built for comfort) on each leg. This does not include the 3 meter ladder bolted into the mountain. The track was increased from 500 to 700 steps within the last few weeks due to a series of landslides. Are there handrails anywhere along the mountain? Don't be silly.
  
• Mental anguish regarding hydration - Plan A was to drink as little water as possible all day because I didn't want Mother Nature to call while I was on the glacier. I envisioned myself getting stuck to the ice (a la A Christmas Story) in a compromising position. I had to resort to Plan B when I was faced with seven hundred steps.
  
• Strap on your crampon! - You have to adjust all your footsteps so that the middle of the your foot hits the ground first. This allows the crampon spikes to dig into the ice. Not difficult by any means, but you find yourself concentrating on every step. You have to carefully consider foot placement and ice topography. Our guide used his axe to cut "steps" in the particularly steep areas. The "steps" were like little footholes that only fit the toe cage, so it's difficult to get a grip.


• Sunshine - We had a relatively warm and sunny day, which was good news and bad news. It meant that many of the tracks melted away so our guide had to start from scratch in some sections. This really slowed us down, and I'm pretty sure we took the "long way." At one point, we saw him run up to another guide and say, "I haven't been up here in ages." Excuse me?!


• Crevaces - Some of these cracks in the ice are paper thin and others are wide and deep enough to allow you to plunge to an icy death. Our guide was leading us to one such crevace when he abruptly turned around and said, "Go the other way. Don't even get close enough to look."
  
• Cuts like a knife - The ice surface is not nearly as smooth as it appears. We had to move through one particularly steep and narrow section one-by-one. The fist girl tripped. Then the next guy got a bloody knee. Then Dawn got a bloody hand. Then I got a bloody hand. I thought we'd have to be helicoptered out of there.

It was dangerous and fun and a looong day. I felt like I channeld the spirit of Kiwi hero Sir Ed... except he climbed Mt. Everest and I almost collapsed after climbing seven hundred stairs.

Ice Age, Heat Wave, Can't Complain*

*These Modest Mouse lyrics seems especially fitting for the west coast of NZ's south island!

Given everything I've told you about "world famous in NZ" and all that nonsense, I can understand why you might be skeptical to hear that this stretch of NZ is accessed by the World Heritage Highway. Take my word for it... this is one area in which the country does not oversell itself. Spend a little time in this place and it's easy to see why NZ is known as Godzone (as in, God's own country). The pictures are inadequate and give no sense of scale. But have a look anyway!

The contrast and variety of scenery is amazing. On Wednesday, we were hiking on a glacier. On Sunday, we were hiking through beautiful white sand beaches. (You could easily make the drive between these 2 sites in one day). Rainforests quickly turn into beaches with ferocious waves and riptides. It is strongly recommended that you not swim on any of the west coach beaches. When we stayed overnight in the rainforest and it poured, I didn't even mind. The whole area is very "Lord of the Rings." You expect a hobbit to jump out at any moment.

The "highway" winds through mountains with one lane bridges every few kilometers. You pass through heaps of tiny old gold and coal mining towns. This is also the center of NZ's greenstone (jade) industry. Signs warn you to fill up on petrol because there will be no gas stations for the next few hours. Food is also scarce... for a while, I thought I would have to last a few days on peanut butter and jelly, but a small-town general store came to my rescue.

Here is a quick rundown of what I've done since Queenstown:

• Glenorchy, Arrowntown and Wanaka - Lake Wanaka is giving Queenstown a run for its money in terms of adventure activities.


• Fox Glacier - A real live glacier!


• Punakaiki and Paparoa National Park - Rainforests and Limestone Pancake Rocks (named due to their geolocially mysterious layered look)


• Motueka and Abel Tasman National Park - Technically no longer the west coast because we're back up towards the top of the island. This park has some of NZ's best beaches, accessible only by boat. We took a water taxi to one bay, then hiked through the bush for 5 hours to reach another bay, lay on the beach, and wait for our return taxi.

Toe Jam

The Kiwis are often barefoot, which totally grosses me out. This is not a summer trend; I've been noticing this disturbing practice for many months now. The worst offenders have to be the two young Kiwi males I spotted walking barefoot through the supermarket. Nasty.

I've noticed some stores with signs reading, "Please leave muddy boots outside." Perhaps at one time, it was common courtesy to leave your dirty farm shoes outside. However, this still doesn't explain why people walk down the streets barefoot. And this is 2009 - most people (even Kiwis) now own more than one pair of shoes. Leave the muddy boots at home and slip on some jandals, mate!

For whatever reason, footwear (or lack thereof) became a topic of discussion on one of Dawn's recent kayak trips. A British couple was unhappy to learn that their child is encouraged to go barefoot at kindergarden. The Kiwi guide asked her, "Why aren't you allowed to be barefoot in America, anyway?" Surprised by the "no shoes, no shirt, no service" sign at an American gas station, he was forced to leave his money outside the store's front door.

Braless Wonder

No, not Sue Ellen Mishky. I refer instead to a naked fence in Cardrona, NZ. Imagine my dismay when I learned that the once "world famous in New Zealand" bra fence had been stripped bare in 2006. Who knew the Kiwis could be so conservative?! Believe me... that was surely the best thing Cardrona had going for it. Oh well, I don't exactly have an abundance of spare undergarments these days anyway. I'll have to hatch a new plan to leave a little piece of myself in NZ. Here's hoping the north island's toothbrush fence is still going strong! Stay tuned.

Bungy!

I did it, and it scared the living daylights out of me. View the pictures of my ordeal here.

I've been thinking about bungy for months, but I became less and less sure about it as we drew closer to Queenstown. Of course, you can bungy in the US or any street corner in NZ, but Queenstown is the birthplace of bungy and it has spawned an entire sports-that-can-kill-you industry. If you're gonna do it, do it right!

I booked my bungy jump as soon as we arrived in town. I went straight to the visitors' center counter and accidentally selected the Nevis Bungy, the most expensive and highest jump in NZ at 134 meters (and possibly the world, expect for those real crazies who do heli-bungy). I had meant to select the site of the original bungy, a bridge at a more palatable 43 meters. By the time I realized what I had done, the woman had already made my reservation. Oh well. Go big or go home.

Thennn I went to the bungy center where they show videos and pictures of all the different bungys. Only then did I realize what I had signed up for. If I had gone to this place first, I'm not sure I ever would have done the jump. The videos made me nervous all through the night. I actually considered changing from Nevis to the bridge in the morning, but Dawn gave me a rousing pep talk.

I checked in at 11am and signed away my life. In addition to releasing the company of responsibility for bodily injury, I also released them from responsibility for any "emotional trauma" that I or my spectators might experience. Among the conditions I'm asked about are "fragile skin" and "panic/anxiety." I don't know what "fragile skin" means, but I was hoping this jump wouldn't ruin my delicate complexion. And I would like to meet the man who doesn't experience some panic and anxiety faced with a 134 meter jump. He's lying!

Without a doubt, the worst part of the whole experience was the 40 minute van ride to the jump site. It does nothing to calm your nerves. Quite the opposite, as the driver was herking and jerking us over all kinds of steep mountains and dirt roads. He points out the bridge bungy site to us (which looks pretty high) and says, "You'll be about 3 times higher." I think, "Please turn this van around."

Upon arrival, we're immediately harnessed up and taken down a boardwalk to a viewing platform. I'm terrified. Then they take us 3 at a time (we were a group of 6) in a rickety gondola to the jumping station. The jump station is probably 15 foot x 15 foot and it is rockin'. Party music is on, people are literally shaking in their boots, there's a lot of yelling and swearing and "oh my god, oh my god, oh my god." The atmosphere was electric. Total strangers are high-fiving and holding on to each other.

From then on, things move pretty fast... or else I blacked out. You hoist yourself onto a ledge were they add ankle straps to your body harness. As one person comes up from a jump, they put the next person in what looks suspiciously like an executioner's chair to bind the ankles together. I had to remind myself to breathe. They help you up and you hippity-hop over to the ledge. He said, "Further, toes to the very edge." I inched forward. And that was it. "123GO!" All in one breath. And I went. You don't have a split second to think, which is a very good thing. You extend your arms and dive headfirst as far out as you can. I did all of this without looking down.

The free fall is 8.5 seconds and it knocks the wind out of you. I wondered if my life would flash before my eyes, but the truth is that my mind went blank as I hurtled head-first towards a rocky river. Then, all of sudden, I go bouncing back up. This turns me all around and I free fall again, which I wasn't exactly expecting. After the second bounce, I have to do a sit-up in mid air to release a strap around my feet. This separates my ankles and flips me into a seated position in the harness. You have to pull the strap really hard. It took me two tries. Some people couldn't do it and had to be pulled all the way back to the station hanging upside down. In the seated position, the ride back up is very calm and scenic, except you are panting like you just ran a marathon.

Most people are so shaky when they're pulled back into the station that it takes a moment to get their footing. You're kind of in shock, and the adrenaline is oozing out of your pores. Personally, I was hepped all afternoon. That's the whole point, I guess. After all, I paid good money for that emotional trauma !

Thrills & Chills

Next on the agenda is Queenstown, adventure capital of the world. Will I bungee jump? Will I skydive? Will I live to tell the tale? All to be determined.

Newsflash, Part XXVI

This is the lead story in today's edition of The Southland Times - Ewe Must Be Joking. This is as exciting as the news gets down here.

Pigs, Pegs, or Peegs?

Now faced with a shortage of gold coins and a $3 charge to use a dryer, I’m finally coming around to the Kiwi practice of hanging your laundry outside to dry. Many of the campsites have clotheslines, but no clothespins. I asked the teenage cashier at the supermarket, “Do you have any laundry pegs?” I already thought I was making a great concession to the Kiwis by using their term “pegs” instead of my term “clothespins.” The poor girl clearly had no idea what I was talking about. I repeated myself, but she was still confused. She left her station to walk with me to the laundry aisle and buy herself some time. She asked, “What is it you need again? Laundry pads?” I said, “No… pegs” and I made the international gesture for hanging clothes on the line, which turns out to be something like a downward facing lobster claw. Her face lit up. “Oh, peegs!” I was using the right word all along, but my funny accent got in the way again!

Life Is A Highway

We’re doing a lot of driving these days. Sometimes the roads are long and flat and straight, which can very easily put you to sleep. Other times, the roads are gravel and steep and winding. The highest speed allowed in NZ is 100 km/hr (62 miles/hr), but you often have to go much slower. Many of the well-traveled roads aren’t paved and you can’t go faster than 30 km/hr. You can go a looong way without seeing another car or human being. We’ve come up with the following diversions to keep us entertained in the car:

• Our “Hot Nights in the City” compilation cassette tape got old after a few months, so I invested in a cassette adaptor for our ipods. The sing-a-long possibilities are now endless. My current favorites include Beyonce’s “Single Ladies” and Willy Nelson’s “On the Road Again.” My musical taste spans genres!
• Speaking Kiwi English in Kiwi accents – this never gets old.
• Playing a guessing game about where the “town” or “city” we’re driving through fits in the NZ food hierarchy. Does it have a dairy, a Four-Corner Superette, or a full-fledged supermarket?
• Various sheep jokes, such as asking in a serious voice “do you have any idea where can I see some sheep?” I conservatively estimate that I see 1000 sheep per day. Unbelievable. Some woolly, some shorn, mostly white, some black, mostly quiet, sometimes a cacophony of baas that haunt my dreams.

Going to the Southside

I’ve now covered the southeast of the south island (Otago Region), the deep south (Southland), and I’m making my way north again.

What a difference a few hours can make! On Jan 26, I wore a bikini on the beach. On Jan 27, I wore 3 layers of clothing. It was the middle of summer, but it sure felt like July. It went down to 44 degrees overnight in the Catlins. I was in a tent. Let’s just leave it at that. We gladly paid for beds for the rest of the week.

Here is a brief recap of the ground I’ve covered since the last blog entry. Click here for the corresponding pictures.

• Dunedin –This is the south island’s second largest city. Auckland and Christchurch get all the attention, but my vote for urban fun goes to stepchildren Wellington and Dunedin. Dunedin, which likes to be known as the “Edinburgh of the South,” had a decidedly Chinese feel. We attended “The Emporer’s Dragon,” a museum exhibit about the dragon’s place in Chinese history, art and culture. A sign proclaimed Shanghai to be Dunedin’s sister city. It remains to be seen whether Shanghai is aware of this sisterhood. Dunedin also opened a Chinese Garden in 2008. The place was hopping for a celebration of the Chinese New Year, which included a surprisingly impressive fireworks display. Our final stop in Dunedin was Baldwin Street, said to be the world’s steepest street. My calves agree.


• Otago Peninsula – A day trip from Dunedin included a stop at NZ’s only castle. It was built by an Australian banker to impress his French wife. Then he got divorced. Then he got married again. Then he got divorced. Then he got married again. Then he killed himself in Parliament. We also found a secluded beach and decided to spend the afternoon sunbathing until high tide kicked us out. The good thing about having everything you own in your car is that you always have a swimsuit and towel on the ready!


• Moeraki Boulders – These spherical wonders cover the beach, which is cluttered with red seaweed. Some of the smaller boulders look like turtle shells or brains.
  The Catlins – This region of Southland includes forests, bays, and other natural attractions. Every 10 minutes, there is a turn-off for some walk, or beach, or waterfall, etc. We took 2 days to drive through this area, but you could probably stretch it out longer if you enjoy the cold and wind. Our stops included: Cannibal Bay, Jack’s Bay and Blowhole, Cathedral Caves (see below), Curio Bay (fossil grounds), and Porpoise Bay.


• Slope Point – The southernmost point in NZ! Next stop: Antarctica! To reach this point, you drive up a 13 km dirt road, and walk through some fields (private property closed for lambing in the spring). Standing atop this cliff looking over the blustery Pacific definitely makes you feel like you’re at the end of the earth.


• Invercargill and Bluff – Southland’s “city.” At least I got cell phone reception here. That’s all about there is to say. If you believe the media, the predominance of boy-racers and hoons (short for hooligans) is tarnishing the city’s fine reputation.


• Cathedral Caves and Clifden Caves – The gates to Cathedral Caves are unlocked only for the 2 hours on either side of high tide. The parking lot is manned by NZ Department of Conservation staff who collect $5 per person. You take a short walk through a rainforest, then along the beach to reach the caves. The caves are a big wide open loop that you can walk through in 2 minutes. No artificial light required. Clifden Caves are the extreme opposite. Anyone can pull over on the road at any time to explore. There is a sign warning you not to enter after heavy rain. But it is always raining, so what is considered "heavy"? And I just drove from 2 hours away, so how do I know if it’s been raining here? The sign also tells you to go in a group of 2-6 people, take 2 sources of light per person, and don’t touch the delicate walls. It is pitch black10 feet into the cave. The ceiling is covered in glowworms. The rocks are very slippery. If you don’t touch the walls, you’ll most certainly break an ankle. Luckily, we had headlamps because I don’t see how anyone could make it through with a handheld flashlight. You need both hands to feel your way and navigate. You’re often on your knees, crouching, twisting or turning to crawl through some narrow opening. I’m not claustrophobic, but after an hour in there, all I wanted to do was stand up and stretch. You come out covered in dirt.


• Te Anau and Fiordland National Park - If you’ll look at a map, you’ll see that this park dominates a very large area of land. The Park’s Milford and Doubtful Sounds have been described as the 8th Wonder of the World! The southwest region of NZ is known as “New Zealand World Heritage Area” because it is in the world’s best interest to preserve the 4 large national parks in this region. We went snorkeling in the rain and FREEZING waters of Milford Sound. It required a full wetsuit. Then we walked through the forest to “shower” in one of the sound’s waterfalls. I also took a day-long cruise on Doubtful Sounds, which can be reached only by a boat ride across Lake Manpouri. Our captian told us we were lucky to have one of the 2-3 days ALL YEAR without any rain. There were 4 retirement age British couples on this cruise who were very curious about why I was on this boat by myself, if my family was worried about me in NZ, and whether I would go to college when I returned to the US. I'm pretty sure they thought I was a decade younger than I really am.