Boulders...Galloping Down the Mountainsides

Last weekend, I tramped over the Pouakai ranges behind Mt. Taranaki at Egmont National Park over two days.  It's the most challenging overnight tramp--or hike!--that I've done to date.  And so far, I'm loving it. I went with a Meetup group; strangers, really.  We traversed over alien-like landscapes of towering rock faces and delicate waterfalls carved into the side of Mt. Taranaki, a sleeping volcano that's ready to erupt any time now; and over open swamp lands before we ascended the Pouakai ranges that undulate to the north of Mt. Taranaki.  We saw views of the sprawling farm land of New Plymouth beyond.  We climbed the peak of Mt. Henry, and then descended again into luscious bush, filled with trickling streams and beautiful fauna.  The fog rolled in fairly early that weekend, hovering over us and making it all seem like we were dropped into scenes from the Lord of the Rings.  Isn't this why I came to New Zealand?!

The power of nature--though, truly, the climate was very much tame for the two days--can really break down a person.  All the more reason to owe it homage and to never go unprepared for such a trip.  Being that I was with a group of strangers, I was more nervous about what to expect out of them than I was to that of the trail.  Sure enough, two of the girls got on my last nerve (cue the head-shaking and finger snapping that I often borrow from my African-American sistas).  I absolutely abhor whiners, ESPECIALLY when I'm trying to enjoy the majesty of nature.  They complained that hut conditions were not suitable on our first night, or that the trip organizer, Ray, was being unfair.  They were ill-prepared, carrying heavy drink cans, ceramic bowls, and JEANS!  One of them was left behind when she didn't turn up after over an hour behind us.  (We went back to pick her up, don't worry).  Why come along the trip if you're going to be so unpleasant?  And when the girl-who-was-left-behind, began to give our trip organizer a piece of her upset mind, I just wanted to tell her to shut up: don't go blaming others for you mis-communication.  Not that it was necessarily her fault--shit happens--but she should've told someone that she would be too far behind, especially after Ray had already tried to put her in front of him and she insisted that he not!  A simple mistake gone terribly wrong, but why cry over spilt milk?

And then one dude was also left behind because he'd twisted his ankle on the first day and then insisted that he not take the short route after it was offered to him a half a dozen times...MEN!  Either he really did not just hear the offer (which I saw him say no directly to multiple times) or he's dumb.  Probably having further injured himself, he followed our 12km trail on the second day, and again, forced us to make the difficult decision of whether to go ahead to New Plymouth for lunch or wait indefinitely.  (Don't worry, we came back for him too.)

One can argue that we should have waited on the "no man left behind policy."  But remember that we were strangers, and not equipped with time or the right gear to make a rescue if indeed that's what we had needed to do.  The members of the group were repeatedly given schedules and the warning that one needs to be FIT to accomplish the hike.  So, no, don't go screaming at the trip organizer that it's his fault for making the members-left-behind wait for an extra 3.5 hours while we toured New Plymouth.  They're lucky that he even came back!

Whewwwwww, good to get that out.  I don't like being angry in a country that is supposed to bring me peace.  In all, the trip was amazing, and the other half the group that wasn't on my last nerve was lovely.  One girl loved to sing Disney songs, while a pair of older ladies were such a treat just to chat with on the trail.  Granted, they were Kiwi or Australian; the others were German, Canadian (who was the yeller--real surprise there), and a Filipino (**head against table**).  Does this represent a conclusion??  I won't go there...

New Plymouth was a real treat.  We climbed a giant rock face near the coast and ate lunch by the waterfront.  The coast glistened in the sun when the clouds parted for just a couple of hours.  And the drive home, with views of sprawling, green farm land and numerous sheep, was again another visual form of spectacular.

As we sped back into Wellington (quite late, since we went back to pick up the others), I realized that this trip tested my patience for people, or perhaps the lackthereof I have the tendency to detest people quite quickly, and to remain in this prejudice even if it's not called for.  I'm not saying that I'm going to call up some of these people again any time soon to hang out, but I can't put too much effort into being against them, either.  It's better to just let things go and enjoy the bigger picture, in this case, Egmont National Park.  And nature can bare the best and the worst of people.  Again, another reason to bow down to its power.

A Merry Jest and Dance!

 

The Christmas season is in full swing.  Whereas last week, I was wondering whether Christmas would feel true despite the opposite season down under, I am now certain that that will not matter.  I had been suspecting that my increasingly endearing friends in Wellington would ease the homesickness during the approach to the holidays, but now it is no question!

 

We had our company Christmas party last Friday, and what a blast it was.  During the day on Friday, everyone was abuzz in preparation: we compared ugly jumpers, prepped our decorations, and wrapped our secret Santa gifts.  By the evening, and after a couple of warm-up cocktails, we stuck together like peas in a pod while we danced and laughed the night away.  I am at ease with these coworkers now, and though these are my professional colleagues, the late night antics and somewhat sloppy memories may make for a tight-knit atmosphere.  Going to work with your friends is so much more fun than going to work with a bunch of strangers.

 

Although another wild night out with coworkers (one of many already had and to come in the future) meant a half a day wasted on recovery the following morning, my weekend ensued with more intimate moments with friends.  Saturday evening, I went to dinner at the chic Osteria del Toro with Linda, Manu, Brian and Kristina, two married couples from my work and non-work worlds that I have now brought together.  Linda and Manu especially have become my surrogate family in Wellington, but amidst another bout of their light-hearted bickering, I was reminded of my mother and Father's dynamic.  Especially when Linda began asking me lovingly criticizing questions about how, where, and why I would ever want a tattoo, followed by Manu's silent nods of agreement, it was made official that they are faint echoes of my parents.  Kristina stood up for me like an older sister.  And when the other Christina, a new friend that we had invited along to dinner that night, complained to me later that Brian had kept her from the rest of conversation by talking too much, I found myself defending him--that's my bro you're talking about!

 

And then, when I awoke to an unseasonably cold and dark Sunday morning, I made the decision to put my usual weekend exploring to a rest.  My cozy early-morning breakfast with my flatmates solidified my decision.  Anthony, in particular, had earlier made the same decision for that day, and we spent the afternoon grocery shopping--via a 1 km drive down the road to Countdown--cooking, movie watching, and finishing our chores around the flat together.  When AJ was around during spots in the afternoon especially, we all three swooned over the good-looking actors in the movies we ogled over.  And other times, we sometimes simply sat quietly, enjoying the quiet, lazy Sunday.

 

Yes, indeed, this holiday season is festive!  My friends here have indeed begun to feel like family.  Although my friends are of a wide range of countries and cultures, I must attribute this feeling--so soon and so intense--to host culture that we are all living within: the kiwi psyche and the Māori family basis.  Their emphasis on "togetherness", on the balance between work and fun, and taking it easy, especially within the confines of one's home, makes this holiday season easier to take while away from my family.  With a merry jest and dance, it's jolly Christmas in New Zealand!

To Songs of Yore Resung

It's summer in New Zealand! - but it's December - and it's Christmas...oi, this feels weird!

Fortunately, in living in Wellington, the start of the New Zealand summer is off to a cold and rainy start.  After weekend weather that seemed to be teetering on the edge between what felt more like spring and fall weather, it feels a little less like an unusual season during the approach to Christmas.  AND, luckily for me, having grown up in Los Angeles, it actually feels cooler in Wellington than it often does in December in Southern California.  So bring on the tinsel and christmas lights against the shiny sun!  I'm ready for my first New Zealand Christmas!

Of course, the start of the Christmas season was made even weirder by Thanksgiving's absence.  Thanksgiving, with its extended long weekend at the end of November, is the gateway to an American Christmas.  Nonetheless, I spent a fun-filled Friday, Saturday, and Sunday with friends: Mamma Mia on Friday with Linda; a Kapiti Island day-hike (see gorgeous picture above) and potluck picnic at the Island's summit with the Love Wellington Meetup group (and Linda and her husband) on Saturday; a wild engagement party (rager) for a coworker that same evening; and an ugly Christmas jumper making party at another's coworker's flat with just the girls on Sunday.  In the end, isn't that what Thanksgiving and the start of the Christmas season is all about?  It means being with your friends and family, enjoying one another's company, and reminiscing on the year gone past as it comes to an happy end.  And when you can't be with your real family, you make your friends your surrogate family.  Sorted.

Having had such a jam-packed weekend, in which I met some new and very sweet people at the Kapiti day hike, and grew even closer to the Wellington friends that I've already made, the familiar sentiments of a traditional Thanksgiving are echoed, if not emphasized, during what should have been a typical long-weekend at home with my family in Los Angeles.  I am thankful for these adventures, both epic and intimate, with people both familiar and new.  I am thankful for the friendships that I've built and am building, for a family so supportive and loving, even from afar, and for the simple hope that so much good life is to come.  To songs of yore resung, and to the addition of new beginnings! 

The Wanderer Sleepeth

Wellington finally feels even more like home!  Well, it was beginning to, regardless, but with the arrival of my household items from San Francisco finally delivered--after a month-long visa delay, followed by another month-long delay due to down equipment from a fire at the Port of LA--now Wellington is like a home more than ever.  After my things were delivered last Thursday afternoon by two burly Maori men, I stayed up all evening and into the late night organizing my room.  Luckily, my sweet friend, Linda was there to help unpack, and even took on the difficult task of getting me to throw out things I shouldn't have even brought here!  Still, it feels great to have all my tools, my gear, and just everything sorted.  Living in limbo is never a great feeling, at least for too long.  And now, the wanderer can sleep--in a real bed!  The only last item that remains to be shipped over from the States: my boyfriend!  (He's flying back to New Zealand with me after my trip home for the holidays!)

Once all my homey items were sorted, it was onto thinking about the next adventure for the weekend: tramping and sleeping overnight for a bushcraft course in the Tararuas.  I had signed up for the course to brush up on some camping skills and to learn from the ixperts on how to survive in the New Zealand bush.  Hiking around here is so different from hiking in Western America.  There are no snakes, bears, or mountain lions--or even poison oak--to worry about, but you do have to watch for sudden changes in whether...and that's about it!!  Sure, you might get soaked to the bone, but at least it's not freezing.  The lack of predators makes the experience all the more enjoyable, and quite frankly, makes you have to pack a little less crap in your bag.

And so, I enjoyed the misty wind and the green, lush bush.  When the sun did come out, the silver ferns glistened with their unfurling korus.  We learned to cross the clear, cool river and to navigate through the bush only using maps, the terrain and our trustee compasses.  With all that, and making the 3-hour hike to and from camp with our packs, each averaging approximately 15 kilos, I was spent.

I was thoroughly thrilled to come home to a warm and familiar bed.  My Fitbit sleep tracker indicated that I barely moved on my first night's sleep back from the overnight tramping trip.  The wanderer can pass out!

Yet Feet That Wandering Have Gone, Turn At Last to Home Afar

The koru, seen below, is a common Maori symbol that suggests the parallel existence of constant movement and return to "the center". In other words, it reflects things can both change and stay the same simultaneously. I knew that I loved the fern koru when I first saw one in person. Dualism has played a large part in my life: I'm small with a big personality, American and Asian, a woman in engineering...the list goes on. 

And so it is in having moved here in New Zealand. Surprisingly, rather than admiring everyone and everything with excess zeal and trying fast to forget home--like I'd done in college--being here has only made me look introspectively.  The new cultures, both kiwi and foreign, are a breath of fresh air; an interesting mix of unfamiliar, honest, politeness and friendliness in funny accents.  I can relate to their reserved openness and their simplicity is refreshing. The few Americans around make me nostalgic for home, but at the same time, remind me of why I left.  Amidst the tall-poppy kiwis and the proper English-people, they stick out like sore thumbs, nowhere to hide, and are like my mirrors.  My discomfort of their blatant talk of money and their outright opinions (complaining, really), whether we want to hear it or not, keep me in check.  Those were the habits so easy to fall into, but so easy to feel miserable over, and bad habits that I wanted to be rid of.

But all these new faces, as wonderful as they are, truly do make me miss home.  In finding good new friends, especially like my friend, Linda, a German woman who's come to Wellington with her husband just as recently as I had arrived, and who I've started to spend nearly every weekend with.  Though she's unique in her own special way, I'm reminded of the girly friendships that I spun so tightly in San Francisco.  I'm glad that I've found someone like her here, but it only makes me miss my girls back home. 

And then there's the landscape.  So fresh and green, I almost swoon; so different from the parched landscape of California.  Yet, I find myself tramping around as I always did, especially when I lived in San Diego and then San Francisco.  This last Sunday, I went on a four hour walk from Johnsonville to Wellington City along the Northern Walkway, where I peaked up above hills and mountains, traversed a lush gorge, and hugged hillsides amidst dense forest.  It was so beautiful and exotic, what with the korus about.  Yet, despite my appreciation for the new landscape, I found myself reminiscing moments of the walks that my boyfriend and I ventured on throughout the San Francisco hills.  

So, like the koru, I'm in a constant movement forward, while still remembering everything that's gotten me here...

Seek the Sunlight and the Day

This last weekend was not nearly as crazy as the Halloween weekend the week before.  After an unfocused week at work and taking out all unused energy at the gym or running errands nearly each day,  I started the weekend off with a girl's night out at Roxy Cinema.  I feel so lucky to already have accumulated a fabulous group of girls to turn to for such a night!  Weaved around a movie about a psychiatrist's search for happiness and dinner within the Cinema's art deco-themed restaurant, Coco, we gossiped about boys and love, and laughed over wine and nibbles.  It was such a refresher from the male-infested, engineering office.

The weather was to be beautiful in Wellington for the weekend, and so it was!  With the bay reflecting shades of emerald under the shining sun, I went for a long run before spending most of the day waiting for laundry to dry at home whilst staring out at the blue sky.  In the evening, I reunited with the girls to watch Laura perform in an all-women's choir, after which, our gossiping girl talk continued.  We then rushed over to the waterfront to catch the Guy Fawkes' Night fireworks, while collecting more friends, and reconvened at nearby bar for drinks.

                    

And then Lazy Lazy Sunday...after wandering through both the outdoor and indoor markets like a real local--while chatting with Brandon, who's still working on his land in Vermont, about our usual funny nonsense--I trekked north with my favorite German couple, and a new British friend, to Pukerua Bay.  We meandered up and over a rocky coast, stopping frequently to admire blooming flowers and the rolling bush overhead.  Two hours of trekking under the sun lead to a salty meal of fish and chips in Mana before we finally called it a weekend.

That evening, I had a Skype date with my San Francisco friend, Ashley, who is currently going through a dire state of mind that may ultimately mean the end of her marriage.  She'd been writing to me ever since I had left SF.  Finally hearing it out of her mouth, I realized how sure she was of venturing out on her own.  It's tragic that something that she had once thought would last forever may end in the near future, but she's miserable and the only way to seek happiness may be for her to break her husband's heart...there's a price for everything...

And as I told her about my own story of uneasy decisions and the events that have followed, I was reminded just how lucky I've been to end up where I am.  Had I not just had a whirlwind weekend with friends that I've only just met in the last 8 weeks?  And didn't my loving boyfriend just buy a ticket to NZ to join me?  Don't get me wrong: I've had to break my fair share of hearts and also suffer the pain of disappointment as a result of the actions of others in order to end up where I am.  And not everyone ends up with such a treasure of a life after making the decisions that I've had to make.  But always I've sought out the sunlight and the day.  I have not only searched, but embraced, the happiness in the pursuit.  That's why I came here to New Zealand and its organic beauty.  In its simplicity, I've found my mind less clouded.

But the journey's only just begun!

The Flowering Stars, In Crowns They Hung

It always amazes me when you can go from one extreme to another within such a small area.  

This last weekend was Halloween.  Though I had lived in a city KNOWN for its numerous occasions to get dressed up and dragged out (you know it, San Francisco), I was curious to see how Halloween pans out in Wellington.  It was no surprise then that it is indeed a quieter event here, with only some, young twenty-somethings roaming Courtney Place and Cuba Street into the wee hours of the morning, dressed as ghouls and gobblins.  I even spotted slutty costumes!  Can't have a proper Halloween without some girl teetering in lace, heels, and a corset, who claims to be a sexy version of some childhood cartoon character.

This new Halloween in Wellington, however, was especially festive for the costume party that I attended, hosted by fellow North American expat colleagues. The party was a popular, whispered topic around the office amongst the younger crowd for weeks prior to its arrival.  True to form, the party was complete with Monster-mash music, spooky sweet treats, and awesome costumes.  Let's just say that I partied with MC Hammer, an air dancer, Mugatu, broken dolls, and 3 blind mice.  I went as a Native American (I hope you get the joke).  In the middle of the party, I jumped over to the TSB Arena for a couple of hours to see Lorde in concert!  I just stopped by to say hello...along with a couple hundred other screaming nine-year-old girls.  I actually quite liked her.  She doesn't know how to really dance, but throws her entire body--and massive hair--into the music.  I was surprised to learn that I'd nearly memorized her entire album, Pure Heroine.

After returning to the party, then leaving the party hours later only to wander into Boogie Wonderland, the local trashy dance club, with some coworkers, then grabbing ice cream on the corner with said coworkers, I somehow made it home in one piece.  It took me all of Saturday to recover, but having a sleepy weekend day in your PJ's once in a blue moon is never a terrible thing.  Besides, nights like the one before would be memories that I'd keep forever...if I could retain them.

By Sunday, I felt ready to be productive, and after a trip to the market to restock, my favorite German couple and another new friend picked me up to have me join them on a walking tour of the Red Rocks Reserve on the south coast of Wellington.  When we weren't fighting the blustery wind, we admired the peaceful scenery.  It was so majestic that there were times where we were all reminded of scenes from the Lord of the Rings!  The ocean, even in the dim light under the cloud cover, reflected shades of emerald green and midnight blue, and the Red Rocks--more like maroon rocks--jutted out of the sea, as if sculpted by the crashing waves.  We walked silent at times, just to listen to the howling wind and the churn of the waves. How wonderful it is to have such beauty next to such rich, urban life!  

Fire and Water

This last weekend marked my very first holiday, long weekend in New Zealand!  I took the opportunity to finally get out of Wellington.  I had been planning the weekend for a week or two with a fellow, female coworker, Sandra, but was pleasantly surprised when a handful more of coworkers decided to come along at the last minute.  

We were certainly an international group comprising of an American (moi), a Canadian, a trio of Australians, a duo of Kiwis, and an Irishman.  But I guess that's just the way things roll here, both at the office and New Zealand in general.  We headed north to Tongariro National Park, where we stayed at the perfectly situated Tongariro Holiday Park.  The day on the drive up was clear and perfect, and we even considered trekking the strenuous Tongariro Crossing the next day.  But when the forecast showed a gradual turn back to gray, gloominess for the long weekend, only Sandra and Taylor decided to brave the elements.  Nonetheless, the rest of us still ventured to Taranki Falls and the old Maori tribe Te Porere Redoubts, where Maori warriors once tried to fend off European settlers.  The landscape is barren and yet lush all at once, the volcano peaks of Mt. Ruapehu, Mt. Tongariro, and Mt. Ngauruhoe looming above it.  Only small towns and private farms nestle up against this backdrop.  Its vastness reflects its fiery history of volcanic explosions and violent war, but the flowing rivers, the sweeping mist, and glistening blue and emerald pools suggest the constant force of regrowth and life.

In the evening, we recollected and headed to the Tokaanu Thermal Pools.  Natural hot springs are numerous in the area, but the water is so scalding hot, that facilities, like those at Tokaanu, use the natural hot water simply to heat the treated pool water for guest use.  It was still a soothing feeling to relax in a hot, steaming pool for an hour.  

We closed out the night with beer and card games (and eventually a scalding reprimand from the campground manager to go to bed after we grew too loud).  By the morning, the rain had arrived and it was a quiet, but sobering ride back to Wellington.  As I had done on the ride up, I spent most of the ride staring out the car windows, admiring the sweeping, green hills and losing count of the number of sheep alongside the road.  New Zealand is what I have expected it to be so far: simply lush and tranquil.

The Hemlock-Umbels Tall and Fair

Yesterday, I went to Zealandia in the Wellington suburb of Karori, a protected wildlife sanctuary where birdlife and native plants are being restored to pre-European settler fullness.  Full restoration will take about 500 years; thus the sign reads that one round trip around the main sanctuary will take approximately 2 hours--or 500 years.

The park is quite beautiful.  The tui birds sing to you as if you're the only one in the room, and the fern korus dip down to kiss you in the lush valleys.  Its reason for existence, however, is the response to reverse the history of land-stripping human inhabitance.  The reservoirs in the park were also once Wellington's water supply, but as Wellington grew, the reservoirs were inadequate and abandoned.  As it was solidified that the Wellington fault line runs straight through the park and its reservoirs, the old water supplies were drained to half its capacity.

And there it is again: New Zealand's overpowering awareness of the eminent power of earthquakes.  Sometimes I wonder if maybe I missed this similar power in California.  Yes, we had earthquake drills in addition to fire drills in elementary school, and emergency home kits were sold to our families.  And though the Cities of San Francisco and Oakland, just as examples, are narrowing down their inventories of "soft-story" buildings, these acts are not pasted on the fronts of these buildings or advertised in exhibitions. To the general public, it seems so black and white: either that you are unprepared and are screwed in the next earthquake, or you have an earthquake kit that will feet you for 5 days in a partially collapsed building as you wait for FEMA to never get to you (can we remember Katrina?)

I saw an article the other day in IF**kingLoveScience.com that the fault lines in the Bay Area are so locked up that an earthquake is eminent.  No duh, Sherlock!  Within the Structural Engineering community this has always been known, but why is it only now that a trending site like IFLS is making it news?  It's reality--and we need to deal with it with more than JUST post-preparedness.  Why not an article about what needs to be done to the California building stock?  

Granted, its hard to compare apples with apples.  The biggest differences that set New Zealand apart from California, in regards to its EQ pre-preparedness is: a) its smaller population, and b) the priorities that come with it.  With California's issues in education, economy, pollution, and, dare I say it, border patrol, there is little room left for the government to fund and encourage earthquake awareness and seismic retrofitting.  Even so, if investment is made into pre-preparedness, perhaps there will be something to salvage when the Big One finally hits.

I digress.  Let's get back to tui bird songs and the lush site of NZ-native trees growing anew.  I think I'd like to own a native New Zealand fern...

An Unexpcted Party

Though I knew that the Kiwis must be friendly as a whole country, I find myself amazed at how true it is!  Not to bash too hard on my fellow Americans, but back home, most could try to look up more often and offer at least a smile in passing.  That's what I'm finding here!  Perfect strangers make eye contact with you and smile, as you're walking down the street, sometimes even just to say hello.  A woman at the gym, NOT a personal trainer, dropped her spot in the class to show me how to set up for class.  Young people are not glued to their 3-inch wide mobile screens as they nearly run into you on the sidewalk.  It's just so different and refreshing, one of the many reasons why I decided to come here.

Even at work, my new coworkers are so warm and welcoming.  Sure, at the last firm that I worked at, everyone there was lovely.  But it's different now, and some of it has to do with company culture.  There are HEAPS more engineers my age, and with a Kiwi-like culture that's fond of getting together frequently, I've gone out more with my coworkers already here than I did back home.  Each week, at least once, there's an occasion to have a drink or perhaps dinner.  A group of coworkers even invited me to a weekend camping trip, that I, disappointedly, couldn't join.  Instead, I went on a Sunday evening hike alone up Mt. Victoria Summit, only to find out, come Monday morning, that there was another coworker who would've been absolutely willing to join me!

I couldn't join in on the camping fun because I was busy moving into my new flat.  I'm sleeping on an air mattress on the floor for now with very little furniture, but in a month's time, my shipment of items will arrive from California with my bedroom-full of furniture and stuff.  It will certainly feel more like home once they arrive, but already I'm finding that my flatmates are pushing that feeling forward.  Independent and social, my new flatmates have manage to make me feel as if I'm an old friend.  Within just the first couple of days, we've already all sat together on a Sunday evening, just to have a chat and even gossip.  Hopefully it sticks, but man, was I not expecting this in deciding to move in with strangers.

So though I was certainly expecting to meet some friendly people, I wasn't so much expecting such an unexpected party!  This feeling is beneficial, however, as homesickness starts to settle in.  But that shouldn't be so unexpected.  After all, this is new territory, albeit a very friendly one.

On The Doorstep

I was silly enough to think that finding an apartment in Wellington would be easy, especially given the fact that I came from a competitive rental market like San Francisco.  I thought that my training in SF, with its overpopulation and high rents, would send me sailing nonchalantly through the challenging course that is apartment shopping here in Wellington.  

Well, after two weeks of searching for an apartment--excuse me, a flat--I've discovered that practicality can easily overcome idealism.  In my initial search, I was adamant in finding an unfurnished, unshared, 1-2 bedroom flat for $400 max per week (yes, that is how it's done here) that I could make into a private and comfortable home for my boyfriend and I; except, my boyfriend doesn't arrive until January--most likely.  Yet, as I began to view tiny or outdated flats that were nestled up in the steep, bushy hillsides, the idea of being isolated, alone, and in a new city--a new country!--became daunting, even if being alone meant only temporary.  I had wanted to live alone for some time now, even with its isolating social effects, but some of what I wanted began to feel different in this new environment.  And though my boyfriend is committed to immigrating here, it seemed silly that I had centered my lifestyle on an absent person.  Didn't I come here to mingle, mix, and explore?

I came the realization that I should find a comfortably-sized room in a place with 1-2 flatmates, rather than 1-2 bedrooms.  People seem to prefer to live with others here, anyhow, perhaps out of financial need (like in SF), but maybe also out of the social culture.  And couples seem welcome in shared flats.  It's a good way to meet more people, outside of work, and save up for travel.  And if my boyfriend and I really want a place of our own once he's here in the New Year, we can look for one then. 

Of course, looking for a room in a shared flat is also competitive, but being a professional with a job and from San Francisco has its bonus points. I was able to secure one that I really liked fairly quickly.  Now that the flat search is completed (and fingers crossed that with bond and first week's rent paid, everything's settled), I can focus on the things that really matter: planning trips in and around New Zealand!  I'm on the doorstep to the true adventure.  Where should I go first...?

Not At Home (But Kinda!)

Like last weekend, my second weekend in Wellington consisted of more urban exploration.  This time, I meandered through the Friday Night Market scene and took a Saturday stroll through Oriental Bay and Mount Victoria.  To end the weekend, my mom and I nerded out with a Lord of the Rings movie tour that took us to Kaitoke Regional Park--or where Rivendell was filmed on location.

In my wanderings, and even in conversation with the people that I meet, I'm finding how similar Wellington is to San Francisco.  From the steep hillsides cascading with turn-of-the-century Victorians to the numerous, yummy Asian restaurants; from the unpredictable, bayside climate to the pockets of food truck gatherings.  Wellingtonians claim that their city is the miniature of San Francisco, and I agree!  Granted, there are touches that make the pace of life appear slower and simpler here, not centered on who's got the latest app and who worked the most hours this weekend.  Touches of home mixed with touches of something a little more...exotic. 

I spent Saturday evening amongst a new group of co-workers for a birthday house party that ended pleasantly with a large, raucous, roundtable dinner at a local Thai Restaurant.  Out of about 15 plus or minus, 80% of us were American.  It's natural instinct to drift towards your own kind, and though I am well aware that living abroad should be a time where I should be mixing in with the locals, I am also aware that hanging around with a group like Saturday night's is still pleasantly refreshing.  After all, we all have something in common, other than work: we all want to live abroad and experience something new and adventurous.  

So with an urban landscape reminiscent of home and a fun group of fellow US expats, life in Kiwiland may just be made that much easier.  Though I'm not at home, it doesn't have to feel so far away.

All That Is Gold Does Not Glitter

Before wholly deciding to take up a full time job in New Zealand, I applied for a Fulbright-National Geographic fellowship to "tell any story by digital storytelling," via text, photographs, and video. As a structural engineer, I wanted to showcase stories of the effects of devastating earthquakes on community.  In particular, I focused my fellowship statement of purpose on the aftermath of the devastating 2011 Canterbury Earthquakes in Christchurch, New Zealand.  And though I did not receive the Fulbright fellowship, I maintained the enthusiasm to document these effects, as I settle into this small country.

 

A week into living here, I already notice the earthquake influence on the Kiwis.  Like San Francisco, Wellington puts an emphasis on the history of earthquakes in the area.  However, there are more "public displays of affection".  Today, for example, as my mom and I explored Wellington's Wellington City & Sea and Te Papa museums, I noticed visible placards at entrances significantly describing the museums' base isolation system.  Te Papa even had a separate basement exhibit, showcasing the massive isolators and the museums' advancement in earthquake resistance. I was like a kid in a candy shop!

 

Additionally, nearly all major national government buildings are base isolated.  Wood buildings, such as the Wellington City & Sea museum, are base isolated--I didn't know they did that.  Even my office building, the Old Bank Chambers, is isolated.  Adding base isolators, or lead rubber bearings, in a grid pattern beneath these buildings, most of which are restored, early 19th century heritage buildings, allows for more separation from ground shaking during an earthquake.  Though forces transferred to the building from ground shaking will not completely be eliminated via the base isolators, the forces will certainly be minimized.  In turn, costly damage and collapse is prevented.

 

Kiwis are keen to preserve their history, both natural and architectural, seemingly regardless to cost or added hardship (base isolating an existing building is no easy task).  They hold engineers in high regard to provide their buildings with resistance; hence how easy it was for me to find work here.  And when I tell local kiwis that I'm a structural engineer, I (so refreshingly) do not get the quick response: "Oh is that like an architect?" (Grrrrrr...)

 

I am not used to such displays of "affection".  Sure, San Franciscans are aware of earthquakes and its consequences, but I've not seen this level of progressive, public, proactivity to prevent building loss.  The City of San Francisco struggles to assess its large inventory of potentially "earthquake-prone" buildings.  San Francisco building owners tend to prefer avoiding the high cost of seismic resistance, and often, structural engineers are hidden behind the superficial glory of architectural grandeur.  Kiwi hypersensitivity, granted, may be attributed to the higher amount of seismic activity in New Zealand, and with a smaller country comes an easier task of initiating government-funded projects.  But California, too, has seen three damaging, 6.5+ magnitude earthquakes since 1971. Things are getting better in SF, but will it take the next Big One to make the general public push more for progressive building upgrades? 

 

The Neighbourhood of The Hill

                

I started my first day at work as a Structural Engineer in Wellington yesterday.  First days are always a bit slow, but certainly exciting.  Everyone is very welcoming; the accent is certainly something to get used to.  And I finally got to meet the buddy of a buddy who'd helped me get this job, after nearly 4 months of email/chat correspondence.  Now we're coworkers with neighboring desks!  It's been really nice having a "familiar face" in such a new environment.

My mom is here with me for just a couple of weeks, so while I'm at the office, she tours the city.  She's a good traveler on her own, so there's not too much to worry about while we're apart during the day.  In the evenings, we meet up and she takes me to one spot or two that she's already seen, acting as tour guide.  I make note to go back to these places--so far, Cuba Street, Courtenay Place, and the waterfront--to take in the full experience.

The digs that my company has provided me for my initial month in Wellington are SUWEET.  Comfy and cozy, with great views of Kilburn Park and Victoria University, the serviced apartment is also only a five minute walk from the office and the city sights.  We're to have wine with the friendly hotel manager tomorrow.  Sweet as!



Middle of Middle Earth

I arrived in Wellington, New Zealand yesterday, Sunday.  Here, the landscape is gradually waking, bleary-eyed, from another blustering, windswept winter; such a change from the overwhelming heat in Southern California.  Wellington City was quiet upon our arrival at our hotel, its inhabitants settling indoors, as is the Sunday evening custom here.  The city feels like an English miniature of San Francisco--a city by the bay--but I'm sure that once I begin to live the day-to-day and explore the expansive vistas, the feeling of NZ will quickly and quietly settle in.  



I'm Going On An Adventure!

It took one month last fall to realize that I wanted to work abroad; another one to realize where. By Christmas, I applied for a Fulbright grant that could bring me to Christchurch, New Zealand to document the aftermath of the 2011 Canterbury Earthquakes.  However, by May, when the grant fell through, I conducted a short job search that ultimately yielded a job offer in Wellington, New Zealand.  After signing the (generous) offer; filling out heaps of paperwork to apply for a visa application; packing and planning; saying goodbye to San Francisco and my friends; moving to back to LA to be with my family; and waiting in anxiety for it to come through--during which my visa application was sent to an unusual second round to investigate my extensive medical certificate per New Zealand Immigration standard--I have finally received my New Zealand work visa.  

I fly out from LAX tomorrow night.  My first day at work in the Wellington CBD is Monday!  I'll spend the next 30 months (minimum) exploring the country's culture and landscape via this new job as a structural engineer.  Each day will contain some new vista and experience. And so...I'm going on an adventure!!