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
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