The Journey Home

Date: Saturday August 13, 2011

Time: 5:35 pm

Location: Auckland, NZ, Auckland Airport

Well, here I am again; sitting in an airport. The circumstances are significantly different though. I don’t (as much as I would like to) plan to miss my flight this time. Not that I actually planned that, but it’s about an hour out of boarding time and I’m already sitting at the gate.

Instead of hours of Canada and a Sydney airport travel, I have spent the last couple hours on various buses. After breakfast at Dixie Brown’s with Ken, he dropped me off at the Naked Bus. Thankfully, everyone inside was fully clothed with the only reference to nudity coming from the catchphrase of the bus company; “Stripping the cost of travel!”

I was enjoying having two seats to myself and the quiet of the bus and at the same time listening to Adele and Taylor Swift. It wasn’t until the bus stopped to pick up passengers in Waikato that I had to share my seat.

“sithere?” mumbled a girl with dark hair and big earrings as she sat on my purse.

As if I had a choice. I regretted her sudden presence for two reasons; one, the fact that she took the seat without waiting for my answer and sat on my purse. And two; because I had to pee and she had just blocked me in.

She immediately pulled her hood over her sunglasses (???), crossed her arms and shut her eyes. There was no squeezing past this broad. She had bags on her lap. And to give you a picture of her size, her pockets were untucked because there was just no room in her pants. Do I dare rouse the rude sleeping girl? I thought as I looked longingly back at the on-board lavatory, a teasing two seats behind.

Luckily, we stopped in Hamilton just then to change bus drivers and were given a 10 minute bathroom break.

Once I arrived at the airport and checked in I set out on a mission to get my money back from Air New Zealand. I was promised 100 dollars of clothing reimbursed after they lost my bag and I sure as heck wasn’t gonna miss out on it! Unfortunately, since it was to be reimbursed in New Zealand dollars (which were of no use to me at this point) I only got 71 U.S. dollars back after fees and currency differences were incurred.

After all that was said and done I walked over to security and unloaded the 30 pounds of bags I was carrying on my person. I got to the other side of the metal detector and was asked to follow a man to an inspection point where he carried my red backpack. He did a quick search and found the jar of Nutella I was bringing home. Rats!

“You can’t take this, it’s over 400 milliliters.”

“Ok.” I said, shattered.

“Would you like a spoon?” he laughed.

YES!

“No, that’s alright.” I laughed back and left in search of sustenance before I got on the 12 hour flight.

When I got on the plane, I realized I was given an aisle seat. Oh, joy. At least I was sitting next to a harmless elderly couple.

Yeah, right.

I put on Water for Elephants and settled myself in to the uncomfortable coach seat the best I could when I noticed the lady was struggling with her remote and TV. I offered my assistance and showed her how to push the arrows and select button (so hard!). I thought she understood until she called the flight attendant over not half an hour later.

 I finished my movie and the chicken dinner I was given then I decided to try and sleep. I reclined my chair, which the guy behind me was not too happy about. Sorry mister, I’m not too happy about my sleeping situation either.

I didn’t even recline it fully, which I discovered after I was drifting to sleep and elderly woman pressed my recline button instead of hers. Whoa! Good morning!

After that, sleep was just wishful thinking. The seat was extraordinarily uncomfortable and my poor bottom was getting sore no matter how much I shifted cheeks. Also, instead of going to sleep, elderly woman decided to read some romance novel and her darn overhead light was shining in my eyes.

Looks like I’m having a Big Bang Theory marathon.

I finally arrived in L.A. and had to run around the airport like a chicken with my head cut off to customs and ticketing and security in under an hour to make my next flight.

But I made it! So here I am in Seattle, spending a few days with my sister before I return to Colorado.  I’m already missing New Zealand and all my friends. The New Zealand smell Febreeze (I kid you not) my sister bought is just not the same.

Black, Blue and Bruised

Date: Wednesday,  August 4, 2011

Time: 4:05 pm

Location: Taupo, NZ, The Fox’s sun room

This past Saturday I took my first ever trek up a mountain with the intention of taking advantage of the slippery quality of snow and the ability to ride gracefully through the meanders of a path down to the bottom.

If only.

I was wary of snowboarding to begin with for two reasons; one, your feet are bound together by a very hard board. People were given two feet for a reason; it’s easier to balance that way.  Plus they are bound together in a very unnatural way, in a permanent war-like stance, with your feet spread far apart. As if you’re preparing for battle or something.

Two, how the heck do you stop?! There aren’t any brakes on that thing. It’s smooth on the bottom! And what if you’re flying down a mountain with a cliff to your left and you’re trying to avoid other skiers and snowboarders AND it’s a very steep decline?!? There’s only one answer to that question for the inexperienced, first-time snowboarder; you don’t.

Not gracefully at least. As I was finding it very difficult to master the correct way to stop, I took to just plopping my butt down whenever I was going too fast or needed a sudden stop. This technique would often cause a fantastic spray of snow on anyone nearby and would often times involve a great deal of pain to my backside, but it was better than going off the side of the mountain or mowing down the unsuspecting skier/snowboarder. People get quite cranky when you knock them over!

“Thanks for that!” Said a particularly humorless Kiwi woman I knocked from standing position.

As if I enjoy getting jabbed in the gut by your ski poles, lady! It’s not like this isn’t the one millionth time I’ve done this today either. You think you’re tired of falling over?!

Despite the good hour I spent learning what to do on the bunny hill; that was the gist of my entire day. It wasn’t a particularly nice day either, it was overcast and sunless. By the end of the day my hair was drenched from the on-off snow showers and my “water-proof” ski gear, soaked through.

On day two, I elected to attempt to ski instead. This was also for two reasons; one, your feet aren’t connected. And two, you get poles to help you stop. (So I thought)

Sunday was nicer weather-wise times 1 million. The sun was shining and the mountain looked absolutely majestic and inviting. Special thanks go out to my extremely patient ski/snowboarding instructor, Bevan.  To stop, your ski’s should look like a “Pizza! Pizza! Pizza!” To go they should look like “French Fries! French Fries! French Fries!”

So I learned how to ski to the tune of; “French fries, French fr- PIZZA PIZZA PIZZA! Ok, French fries, French fries, Fr-pizza, pizza, PIZZA!!!!”

I actually was doing quite well with skiing and enjoying it a great deal more than snowboarding. Then I decided to go down the mountain.

When you fall while skiing, it makes for a much funnier wipe-out. Your ski’s go every which way and poles go flying through the air. There was even a time I slid right into a snow bank. By doing so I knocked the air out of myself, however, I remained upright!

Unfortunately, because of the exhaustion and havoc I put my body through the day before, I was unable to really get a good grasp on skiing. So, muscles spent and energy used up, I took the chair lift down to the café and enjoyed a beer on the patio in the sun.

Thank the Lord for hot tubs at Ruapehu Christian Camp. The only time I could move a limb without serious aching pain was when I was relaxing in the pools that Sunday evening.

While I can’t claim to be a prodigy at snowboarding and I was too tired to put real effort into skiing, I greatly enjoyed that weekend. And I can say something a lot of American’s can’t; my first time skiing/snowboarding was on a mountain in New Zealand. J

The Little Things

Date: Wednesday July 27^th, 2011

Time: 12:55 pm

Location: Taupo, NZ, The Fox’s living room

I’ve recently discovered that I am a relatively simple human being. I don’t live extravagantly, I will often have the same thing for lunch multiple days in a row, and I require very little from people.

As I sat reading my second Kathy Reichs novel since moving to the Fox’s, I suddenly felt inspired to log my time of relaxation. My legs were thrown over the side of a plush green La-Z-Boy and I had just put another log on the cozy fire. My stomach was recently satiated with two pieces of toast covered with Nutella and the last of the 2 liter of Coke Mrs. Fox had bought for me.

As I prepared my lunch, my mind switched to a novel-like narrative as it often does after I’ve spent long amounts of time reading.

I reluctantly got up from the comfortable sprawl I had accustomed myself to and walked into the kitchen…

I smeared Nutella on my toast considering that the jar was already half-empty and wondering if that was all my doing…

This Saturday will mark two weeks until I return to real life. The pace of my life will quicken as I prepare for my last semester in College and I work extra hours to rebuild my depleting supply of money.

So at this moment, I feel completely content and completely relaxed. And I am so grateful to have this time of simply doing nothing.

Discovering My Inner Legolas

Date: Saturday July 23, 2011

Time: 4:40 pm

Location: Taupo, NZ, My bedroom at the Fox’s

This past week was spent supervising nineteen 13 to 15 year-old girls at a kids camp at Lake Taupo Christian Camp. The girls were LIT’s or Leaders in training, so they would assist the junior and senior leaders with their group of younger campers.

Oh, to be 13 at a week-long camp. Your life revolves around whether you get to strategically sit next to the boy you like during meals, wear his hoodie or hat during camp, or maybe even kiss him on the cheek with your friends giggling beside you and wondering if any of the leaders saw (Oh, and help with campers). This was a true story for one of my girls who started “dating” the camp manager’s son during camp. Sexual politics start so young, don’t they?

I did not sleep very well the entire week of camp. Either I was freezing (under my 5 blankets), I was worried about missing my 5:30 alarm, one or both of the girls I was rooming with were snoring, or one of them was periodically yelling in her sleep.

When I wasn’t hearing about the dating drama of my girls, I was downing my second or third cappuccino (thank God for that instant Nescafe machine), leading a game of “ships and sailors,” at a rehearsal for that night’s worship, or teaching kids archery.

“Are we ready to discover our inner Legolas’s?” I’d say. I tell you what, nothing teaches you patience like trying to teach archery. I would demonstrate how to do it, which the kids weren’t listening to and would forget by the time it was their turn to shoot 5 arrows, and have to explain it again once they got up there. They would hold the bow the wrong way, the arrow would fall out of place a billion times, and other similarly frustrating scenarios. Deep breath.

I was keeping track of points for each cabin because whichever one got the most points by the end of the week was named best cabin or team, and I told one of the junior leaders of a group of boys that if he beat me at a shoot-off I would award his team 50 points. I got 5 out of 5 bulls eyes, he got 3. I don’t care if I’m bragging, that’s pretty impressive for someone who hasn’t shot archery since high school.

On Thursday night, as a teaching session was about to start, a helicopter emergency landed on the camps field. Apparently something on the helicopter had broken down with a patient on board. An ambulance had to meet the helicopter at the camp and pick up the patient. This was very dramatic and exciting. Oh, and the kids were very excited by the helicopter being there as well.

Despite the frustration and lack of sleep, this was probably one of the most rewarding weeks of my life. Little lives were changed and I got to spend the week surrounded by awesome and amazing people. Definitely something I would do again.

Moving and Mischief

Date: Friday July 15, 2011

Time: 11:03 am

Location: Taupo, NZ, The Fox’s Living room

The Kiwi’s call it “shifting” but in America we call it moving. This week I moved from my flat at the Short’s, to a bedroom at the Fox’s. The deal was I would spend a month at the Short’s and a month at the Fox’s. That’s right; it’s already been a month!

On Wednesday, I packed my growing number of belongings and cleaned then headed to the Fox’s. My room is awesomely purple and has a matching bedspread decorated with birds and flowers. The duvet is incredibly light but also, incredibly warm.  It’s filled with some sort of feathers.

Since “shifting” here, I’ve found it much more difficult to get out of bed in the morning. When I had my own  flat, I could turn my little gas heater on a reasonably warm temperature and close the bedroom door to trap the heat. I also had the water heater in my closet, which I think helped the heating situation.

Now that my room is part of the main house, it gets just as chilly as everywhere else. I have an electric blanket again, but I don’t use it because the blankets make it warm enough. It’s when I climb out of bed that’s the problem. I pull my blankets up to my chin and contemplate throwing off the covers for about 20 minutes each day; the tip of my nose being the only cold part of my body. “Alright, get out of bed NOW…Now….Now….” I keep losing the battle in convincing my toes to emerge first. The piggies are reluctant to get out of the blankets!

My years in Girl Scouts have done nothing for my ability to build a fire, which I had to do today. As I sat watching Tyra and Skyping, I began to get chilly. Mr. Fox was home earlier for a few minutes to have lunch and he told me where to retrieve wood and how to build the fire. He came home as Tyra was talking about periods, which was a smidge awkward. WHOA! Where’s the mute on this fancy remote?!

I was trying unsuccessfully to start the fire for a few minutes when Jessica IMed me on Facebook, we decided to Skype and she even tried to help me get it going via webcam. It was beginning to come together; I managed to get a few pieces of kindling to catch on fire. But it didn’t really start to roar until Mrs. Fox came home for lunch and opened the vent. Go figure. I tell ya, if I ever end up in the middle of the woods somewhere and my survival depends on my ability to start a fire, I am in for a pathetic end.

If at this moment, someone were to cut me, I’m pretty sure I would bleed Nutella. Today alone, I have had 6 pieces of toast smeared with the stuff.  Two for breakfast, two for lunch when Mrs. Fox came home and two after she left. I think it stems from my laziness. I’m too darn lazy to attempt to make myself something real for lunch. Plus, I wouldn’t even know what to make! I’m a sad excuse for a woman. Aren’t women supposed to be good a cooking? I blame you, America. It’s all those chicken fingers and frozen pizza’s I eat when I’m at home. So easy. Never forcing me to be creative.

Well, whaddaya know? It’s raining again. I swear, Taupo is the New Zealand equivalent to Seattle. I don’t mind actually, because that means my new friend Mischief will come inside. Mischief is the Fox’s orange-striped 10-year-old cat. We made friends last night when he hopped up onto my lap and sat there purring as I watched TV. When the Fox’s went to a church event he and I had a good conversation. I’d get up to get a glass of water and he would follow me. “Meeeeeeeooow!” he’d say. Which either means, “I love you, let’s be friends!” or “You’re up! Does this mean food??” I choose to believe that he loves me and wants to be my friend.

"This is going to taste delirious"

Date: Friday July 8, 2011

Time: 10:33 am

Location: Taupo, NZ, The Short’s Kitchen

In a movie I watched the other day with Lizzy called “Paulie,” there is a scene where one of the main character’s Misha, tries to coax a parrot called Paulie to talk.  He had heard him talk before and was attempting to make him talk again by bribing him with mango. He started to cut the mango and was talking about how juicy and delicious it looked. He cut a large slice and said; “This is going to taste delirious.”

Being from Russia, Misha had a rather strong accent and would sometimes use words in the wrong way. If you couldn’t tell, he was trying to say “delicious.” This week I tried a food that can be described as anything BUT delirious. Marmite.

I figured that I should keep my promise to Lizzy, however, she punished me and took it a step further by making me try it in front of the whole youth group on Wednesday night. Her sister, Katie, was only too happy to team up with her and even brought the sample of Marmite to youth group in a thick spread between two crackers.

I sat in front of the kids and told them the story of why I was tasting Marmite, and then surrounded by their chants, I took a bite. It was like gooey salty chicken broth in brown sticky form smeared between two helpless, unknowing crackers. They weren’t happy with this though, and decided it would be a good idea for me to open the cracker and lick it, like you would an open-face Oreo. The similarity ends there though.

“Alright,” I thought “May as well do this right.” After all, I was raised in a house where my Father said to never “half-ass” anything. So, I opened the cracker and licked the sticky Marmite. Gross. Immediate regret.

Another interesting thing I ate this week was pizza with spaghetti on it instead of sauce. These Kiwi’s just like to put strange things on their pizza! First with the pizza from Domino’s with the big potato wedges as a topping (This, by the way, was titled “Mr. Wedgies”), and then using canned spaghetti in tomato sauce as a replacement for regular sauce in a pizza. I have to admit, it wasn’t that bad.

Other out-of-the(my)-ordinary foods I’ve tried:

-Banana-Chocolate Muffin= Delicious

-Parsnip= Good

-Lamb with mint sauce=Amazing

-Mango with custard and ice cream=Fantastic

-Tuna sushi=Could’ve done without

-Mince pie= Incredible

See how brave I am? Trying all these strange foods. Most of which were… delirious. So far, the only ones I truly disliked were the Marmite and the Sushi. Only one of which, is truly a New Zealand cuisine. So overall, I'm liking the food choices here.

My Lack of Fourth of July

Date: Monday July 4, 2011

Time: 5:06 pm

Location: Taupo, NZ, My Flat

There’s something to be said for familiarity. People get comfortable; they have their “things.” Things they like, things they enjoy doing, specific foods that they eat at certain restaurants, certain clothes that are their favorite, etc. I myself have an orange shirt I wear to bed. It’s my favorite and I can’t even tell you why, maybe because it’s the softest. It’s from middle school and it’s says “24 Hour Run” in faded purple letters. At one time it had a bunch of signatures on the back but they’ve faded as well. It’s kind of hideous really. That shade of orange looks good on no one and there are the beginnings of holes in the armpits. Bottom line: it’s familiar.

For the first time in my life I actually am missing the Fourth of July. Yes, I know it’s still the fourth of July in New Zealand. But in no way is it the same. Today I worked, which never happens in the States because the Fourth is a National holiday. And my clothing had no trace of red, white, or blue. In fact, I’m wearing my Star Wars shirt.

Yesterday I brought up that today was the Fourth of July to the Short’s during lunch time. I was asked what we usually do on the Fourth, which was strange because I’ve never had to describe it before. “Well, there’s Hot Dogs and Cheeseburgers and people Barbeque and there’s swimming and fireworks and sparklers…” I listed.

I then began to feel a little homesick for the land of red, white, and blue. “Well, if you think about it, it’ll be the 3^rd in the states during most of your fourth and then you’ll wake up and it’ll be the fifth!” Mary-Anne offered. That’s true.

However, there will still be all these “Happy Fourth of July!!” statuses on Facebook. Maybe I’ll just avoid Facebook altogether tomorrow. That way, people can’t rub in my face that their watching beautiful fireworks or having corn on the cob or watching a baseball game. In your face! You All-American, Independence day loving, Fourth of July celebrators!!!

Oh, the familiar…

EPILOGUE

Date: Tuesday July 5^th, 2011

Time : 9:19 am

Location: Taupo, NZ, My borrowed office at Taupo Baptist Church

 So, not an hour later as I was sitting in front of the fire, watching TV, Kevin came into the lounge and said; “There’s a box downstairs for you to bring to home group tonight, Mary-Anne’s worked it out with Nicola.”

“What is it?” I asked.

“Just something for you to bring with you to home group.”

“Is it for home group?”

“Yes.”

“Is it for Nicola?”

“No, it’s just for you to bring with you to home group, you ask so many questions!” he laughed.

I dropped it at that, but when my ride came to pick me up and I went down to get the mysterious box I noticed it said “The Big Boom Box” in big orange letters. They got me fireworks!!!!!!!

That night after home group my friends and I went down to Whakaipo Bay where there was no one around. In New Zealand there aren’t a whole lot of extraneous street lights or lamps anywhere. And thank God for that. You could clearly see the Milky Way and about a billion stars in the sky. It was so dark that you had to watch where you stepped so as not to accidently step into the lake.

For the next hour we set off fireworks with names like “lava flow” and “gamma ray.” All the while eating beef jerky and Doritos that my friends had bought for the occasion.  And then to finish off the night, Joel had bought Chinese lanterns for us to light and send off to float over the lake. If you’ve seen Tangled, they’re exactly like the lanterns in that movie.

Not a bad fourth, as it turns out. J