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Published: October 14th 2010
First of all I would like to apologise for the 'delay' in the publishing of the first New Zealand blog entry. As I actually arrived in New Zealand over a month ago, perhaps 'delay' is perhaps an understatement. Empires have been built in less time. However, the wait is now over. Pull up a chair, crack open a beer (or a glass of milk, Randlay children) and prepare for an introduction to life as a 'Kiwi'.
So where was I? Oh yes, tucking into steak and New Zealand Pinot Noir as we soared high above the pacific towards New Zealand. Despite the hushed atmosphere of the cabin which was very condusive to sleep, I managed to obtain a grand total of 0 hours 'shut eye', and stumbled off the plane bleary eyed into the grey, winter morning.
Although I was of course aware of the opposite seasons in the southern hemisphere, I was perhaps a little under-prepared as I spilled off the plane in flip flops, swimming shorts and a t-shirt. Feeling like something that had just crawled from under a rock, I dragged myself wearily through customs. This is where I was treated to my first encounter with
the new threat to global stability. No, it's not terrorism. It's not even drug smuggling. Lock up your children, as the world is under threat from.......soil. 'Bio-diversity' is the buzz word (two if you're being picky) in New Zealand, and whilst passports were given a passing glance, my tent let out a whimper as it was given the 'rubber glove' treatment. It was scanned, swabbed and taken into a side room, then returned to me with a note reassuring me that they were satisfied that my tent no longer posed a threat to national security. Had they smelt the inside of it at the height of our Matsue camping trip however, they may have come to a different conclusion.
After a shower in the terminal, I felt slightly more human, and kitted myself out with a New Zealand phone. I then whiled away a few hours before boarding my flight to Blenheim, where I was to stay with Mike for a few days. I was amused by the contrast in airport security for domestic flights; despite the domestic terminal pocessing the standard baggage scanners, I was waved through without any checks, and wandered without guidance through the boarding gates
that resembled a bus station more than an airport. Having a choice of five planes to board, I briefly toyed with the idea of boarding a light aircraft branded 'Fijian airways', but instead joined my intended flight.
On arrival to an even smaller airport at Blenheim, a text from Mike assured me that he was on his way, but would be 'a little late'. Over an hour later, I saw a station wagon swing into the carpark, go twice around a roundabout and screech in to a parking space. Mike was here!
It was really great to see him, and we caught up on the last eight months as we journeyed to Kekerengu (about 50 minutes down the coast towards Kaikoura), where he was living and working. I was very surprised to see that he was clean-shaven, as I had seen recent photos of a Michael Egan resembling Tom Hanks in 'Castaway'. Nevertheless, Mike was in great form and showed me around his current home, a wooden cottage in the middle of a field with windswept, rugged coastline on one side, and looming, pastured mountains on the other. This was the New Zealand that I had come to
see.
The cottage was a little bit run down, and was bitterly cold at night. However, it was in a stunning location and had great character. It was also pleasing to have a base for a few days, along with some Western TV and food that wasn't compiled soley* out of raw fish. Craig, Mike's housemate, was also a classic Kiwi bloke who played as hard as he worked. He was also a chef at the cafe where Mike worked, and his steak with Mushroom and port sauce will live long in the memory!
I spent the next few days establishing a routine of catching up with with Mike, combined with extreme laziness. I would generally arise no earlier than midday whilst Mike was at work, make a toasted sandwich, and catch up on some American trashy TV. I would then whack a few golf balls in the deserted field, and then go and explore the back country lanes for a couple of hours in the late afternoon. This has always been my favourite time of the day, as the shadows lengthen and envelope the hillsides, whilst colours change from vibrant yellows to sultry greens and browns. Each
day I walked around with my mouth agape, taking in this iconic landscape that had lured me from British shores. I didn't venture far, but I was more than happy to just work off the jet lag and 'stand still' after constantly being on the move for 6 weeks.
After five days, I bade farewell to Mike and made plans to meet up again in December, when we plan to travel around both islands for a couple of months. It was now my intention to head back up the coast to Picton, where I would catch the ferry to Wellington. As buses are about as frequent as a Sheffield Wednesday away win, I decided to hitch-hike up the coast. It is in fact a very popular mode of travel amongst travellers in New Zealand, and is considered to be one of the safest countries to attempt it. I had spent the previous evening constructing a ramshackle sign made out of cardboard and a fading felt tip, and positioned myself on the side of the coastal highway, prepared for a long wait. After only a couple of minutes, the second passing car screeched to a halt and 'Phil', a union
representative from Christchurch, welcomed me into his car. He was heading to Blenheim to a meeting, but had some spare time so offered to take me the extra 25km up the coast to Picton. We had a great chat about wine, rugby and the weather, during which I was able to contribute varying degrees of knowledge. As I disembarked, I enquired about his thoughts regarding my sign. "To be honest mate, I didn't even read it.....it was just a blur of letters!". I was crushed.
The journey to Picton was swathed in steady drizzle, slightly spoiling the photos I had planned to take of the yawning Queen Charlotte sound. However the sun emerged from beneath it's unwelcome shield just as we reached the open sea, and after a mini-siesta, I awoke in Wellington harbour.
I have now been in Wellington for four weeks, and won't subject you to the monotony of a day to day description of a lot of revellry, sight-seeing and form filling as I have settled into my accomodation and attempted to register with a teaching agency whilst the children are on their school holidays. However, Wellington is quite a city, and I will try
to give a flavour of a place that I hope to call home for the next three months.
Wellington is at the mouth of the Cook Strait, and the bottom of the north island. Ferries slide into the harbour on a constant cycle, and at any point in the day a plane can be spotted descending onto the precarious runway that juts out into the sea. Comparisons are often drawn between Wellington and San Francisco, and having now been to both, I can see why. Wellington is split between a long valley between harbour and sea, with residential distrcits spilling onto the neighbouring hillsides. The main business, Government and shopping districts hugs the waterfront, and thus are very easy to navigate.
This is indeed what makes Wellington so appealing; although a capital city, the city itself is estimated at a population of a mere 180,000. Whilst many capitals heave and throb with pressure and pace, Wellington just goes about it's daily business, with the politicians confined to a small district in the city centre. It's compactness is also an attraction. From the city centre the coast can be reached in 15 minutes, and anywhere in the city centre
is within walking distance. The famous viewpoint, Mt Victoria, can be reached from the city centre, and gives clear views of the surrounding area. I have also spent much of my free time exploring art galleries, the botanic gardens and Te Papa, the fascinating national museum that dominates the waterfront. In fact, I have perhaps indulged in more culture in four weeks than I have in the last four years!
Wellington is also characterised by it's unique and diverse architecture. Although most residential buildings are made of wood, no two neighbouring buildings have the same design. This bohemian style is also reflected in the bussinesses that inhabit Cuba st and Courtney place in particular, two of the most cosmopolitan streets in Wellington. I have never seen so many cuisines represented, ranging from Mongolian BBQ to Japanese Yakitori, from Lebonese to Welsh (yes, apparently the Welsh have a cuisine.....I was also quite amused that the town's Welsh bar is actually housed in an old public toilets). There is a distinct 'arty' vibe, brooding artists mixing with grubby students clutching guitars serenading the scuttling bussinessmen. At any time, there is a new art gallery, Iranian film or poky concert venue just
begging to be explored.
A description of Wellington would of course not be complete without a mention of the weather. 'Windy Welly' was a term that I had been briefed with before arrival, and I had also been regaled with stories of horizontal rain and twisted umbrellas. Well, maybe I'm a good luck charm but almost everyday since I arrived I have swept open the curtains to be met with a piercing blue sky and not a cloud in the sky. Wellingtonians however seem to have adopted a distinctly British pesimissm, and when the good weather is remarked upon, they generally shake their head, peer ruefully towards the sun and observe "Nah, it's goin to rain later ay".
I have settled in Worldwide backpackers, a converted house on the Terrace, just out of the city centre. It is a busy, vibrant hostel, with a spacious sun terrace out the front, a well-stocked kitchen and a homely TV room. However it is the inhabitants that make the hostel so special; although there is a constant turnover of travellers, there is also a high proportion of 'residents', who have chosen to stay for a few months and find work. It
has been great to establish friendships with people that last longer than a few days, and also interact with nationalities from all over the world.
Finding work has been a slow process, as I arrived shortly before the children broke up for a two week holiday. However I am now working hard to distribute my CV to schools across the city, and hopefully be employed as a 'relief' teacher whenever needed. Hopefully the next blog entry will include lots of work stories, and some observations on the similarities and differences between British and Kiwi education. I have already been informed that the children address teachers by first name, which I think will be a while getting used to.
I hope that the beer/milk is now finished, and I leave you until next time!
*'SOLEly'......raw fish.....comedy genius
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Longtime
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Hahahahahahahaaaaaa!
Interesting blog, useful for our short stay in the city for the weekend. Yes, we feared our natural plant wedding photo album from Fiji would be confiscated by customs! We're travelling in relative luxury and it's humbling that you've managed to hitch-hike yr way round. Hardcore! Good luck with job hunting x