November 12, 2013 What the Fawkes Say?

I’m happy to say that I’ve continued to look outside the box for things to do in these last few weeks. My host family and I have moved a few kilometers down the road, so I’ve been dealing with packing and unpacking and numerous other transitions—like not having internet at the house for almost three weeks. However, in between hunting for new local haunts, I’ve had ample options to experience some culture since a few holidays have occurred in that time.

Diwali, a traditional Indian festival, has gone on for a couple of weeks, and attended part of the city-sponsored celebrations one Sunday afternoon. I got to spend time with a friend and some of her extended family, which made me feel like I better understood what was going on; one of the city’s main streets downtown was shut down, had I wandered alone through the large area filled with vendors and performances, I probably wouldn’t have enjoyed myself nearly as much. My friend helps her mother-in-law teach traditional Indian dance, and after watching the students put on a marvelous performance on the main stage, I met with her family and happily joined them as they tried the goods from various food stalls (I discovered that I like Falooda and Samosas). Seeing the celebration, even in a more commercialized setting, was still exciting, because I usually enjoy getting to experience a bit of other cultures.

Labour Day also came along, and since I got the day off for this national holiday, I decided to do the most touristy thing possible in NZ: go to Hobbiton. When I told people back home that I would be moving here, they often asked me if I would visit the site of the hobbits’ hometown in The Lord of the Rings movies, so I felt almost obligated to journey to the set just outside Matamata. While I can’t claim to be a tremendous fan of the series, I did enjoy the location and certainly appreciate the attention to detail in creating the set for a fantasy world—and I took plenty of photos. The drive a hundred miles south of central Auckland and back was the more pleasant part of the trip for me; I have loved being behind the wheel ever since I got the chance, and getting to wind through the countryside with mountains and sheep-filled fields all around made for a lovely journey.

The other big holiday was Guy Fawkes Night, which is just a noisy enigma to this newcomer. It’s an English holiday celebrating Catholic extremists’ failed attempt to assassinate Protestant King James I in 1605 (Guy Fawkes was only one of the members involved), and NZ’s English colonization meant that the celebration is popular here. However, I gleaned from numerous newspaper articles this week and from overheard conversations that this has become a celebration devoid of its original meaning—but most holidays are, I think—and has evolved into an excuse for hooligans to run amuck. After hearing backyard fireworks go off every night for over a week, I kind of agree with such a sentiment. November fifth is the actual date, so because of the date some naysayers lump it in with Halloween as a commercial blight on society. In any case, I’m still not sure why it’s a big deal to anyone, so chalk it up to cultural differences.

On a more positive note, I have found some new words I think I’ll be throwing into conversation:

• chocka - full
• biff - throw
• gun (adj) - good; Ex: a gun athlete

The last—and for me, most exciting—new venture of late has been my first open water swim. It was in the Auckland Harbour, and although the course called for us to round a small island instead of crossing the harbor, it was still in very deep water. And the water was FREEZING: when I first got in, I was trying to inhale and couldn’t feel whether I was actually breathing or not, but after a short 100-meter warm-up, I decided my body wasn’t actually shutting down. I raced far better than I expected, especially since I really didn’t get a chance to do stroke work specific to open water, which is supposedly different from the pool swimming I’ve been doing my whole life. That meant that my speed was alright, but I kept changing direction, bumping into other competitors, and I never found the third buoy I was supposed to round. Despite those few detractors, I really loved it, and I’m looking forward to finding more swims nearby to attempt—hopefully one that crosses the entire harbor.

The harbour bridge--across the waterway I'd like to attempt to swim!

Until next time!

—Lenora

Oct 19, 2013 To New Things

Just deciding to move to another country—which is way out of my comfort zone—was something that took a long time for me to push myself to do. Now that I’ve been here awhile, I resolved to try things that I’d never done at home, and in the past couple weeks I’ve done a decent job of ticking a few boxes for things on that list.

First up: a Morris Dancing workshop. Oh, you’ve never heard of that particular genre? This Auckland Heritage Festival event advertised that anyone who could “hop, skip, and wave” could do this dance, so I convinced a friend to join me for an evening of learning moves from this traditional English dance. A local Morris team held the workshop, I was easily the youngest attendee by about 30 years, which meant that I was the spryest, but the moves were not easy to pick up! I gleaned that jig movement drives the footwork, but the dance also includes waving scarves and beating sticks, which my experience of choreography in high school musical productions hardly prepared me for. One thing I definitely like is that the musicians—ours played a violin, accordion, and woodwinds—are an integral part of the dance performance, not an add-on. In general I enjoyed myself, and I admire the many individuals in their 60s who regularly train and perform the Morris.

The next departure from my comfort zone came in the form of a horseback riding trip on the western coast. I hadn’t been on a horse since childhood (and that was only a couple times at a camp), but an event came up that advertised beautiful rural scenery, so I figured I should go for it. The excursion seemed like a great idea until the moment when I actually climbed onto the horse, and I immediately thought, “Mistake.” I had suddenly realized that I sat a fair height off the ground with options to hold onto a measly set of reins or a beat-up saddle, so I began making plans for how I should react when I would inevitably start falling off the horse—leaning forward to grab its neck would be my first move, but a swift barrel-roll to the ground was the backup plan.

Our guides had told me that mine was a “quiet” horse, and while I hoped I would be atop a creature that would pace himself like an enthusiastic mall-walker, my equine companion turned out to be less than ideal for my taste. He’d slow down the line, even though I kept digging my heels into his sides—then he’d run to catch up to the horse in front of us, bouncing me around like a rag-doll, despite my best efforts to channel The Man from Snowy River. He’d also bend down to grab a mouthful of whatever plant grew near his hoof whenever we stopped, so during every break I couldn’t relax or take a quick photo (although I got a handful) for fear that I’d lose the rein. There are just some things for which a suburban upbringing did not prepare me.

Despite the horse riding itself, I did enjoy the outing. The rural areas really are beautiful: the steep, green hills extend for miles around, and they’re mostly dotted with sheep and cows. We also went through wooded areas, and when the Tasman Sea came into view, we were close enough to hear the surf. I felt like I had stepped into a nineteenth century English novel, and for someone whose favorite book is Jane Eyre, that made my day. Although I ached for the next few days, I’m glad I tried something different, even if it was just to find out that I never want to try it again.

A couple of new things have been workout-oriented. Since my water polo team only convenes for sporadically-scheduled games, I looked for other aquatic workout options and decided to try my hand at open water swimming. To train, I joined a master’s swim team, and although the practices aren’t that strenuous, I’m glad to spend more time in the water on a regular basis. The other exercise venture has been a boot camp that meets three mornings a week; I’ve only completed the first week, but I can already tell my running has improved at least.

The final, and perhaps my favorite, new thing that I’ve experienced, was visiting the Auckland Zoo. My two charges often visit the zoo, so for them the outing wasn’t too far out of the ordinary; the last time I went to a zoo was when I was in kindergarten, so I had an absolute blast! We’ve visited the park’s extensive grounds a few times now, and we only get about an hour and a half to wander each time, but I’ve got to see a vast array of animals. The marquee names are the red pandas (which, granted, are kind of just glorified raccoons) and the new baby giraffe, but one of my favorites was this ape. Somehow my carting around two small children prevented my getting a chance to take note of what this is, but I'll find out next time. I look forward to many more trips there!

In general I had a fun few weeks full of new experiences, and I hope to continue that trend. As for the new words I’ve picked up:

• kit - attire
• brumby - a loose woman (it's a wild Australian horse). This term is funnier to anyone who went to UGA and knows the only all-female dorm there is Brumby Hall.
• box of fluffies - it's all good
• felless - female equivalent of "fella"

—Lenora