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!