I've been home for about 2 months now, but I figured I should put another update on here for my own reminiscence's sake if I want to look back on this trip someday.
Deciding when to return home was an extremely stressful decision. From sometime in mid-January through early/mid February when the decision was made final (and even later than that, including after returning home when I inveitably wondered whether I'd made the right choice), all I could think about was when I should return home. When I first made plans to go to NZ I had set February 6 as my return date, but that was almost completely arbitrary. Even then I knew that I wanted to stay in NZ as long as possible for the obvious reason that I was in NZ and wanted to capitalize on that because who knows when I'd get back there. So I decided that coming home in mid-April just in time for the WashU one year reunion would be ideal, since then I'd still have a month and a half before starting school in Madison. But then all sorts of other issues struck me.
The alumni reunion at the WashU indoor conference track meet was in early March and was probably the only chance I'd get to see some of the attendees (until next year's alumni reunion at least). I also started wondering whether a month and a half was really enough time to spend at home before going back to school. I started to realize that this was the last chance I'd ever have (realistically) to live at home and spend time with my parents and, well, my childhood. That fact weighed pretty heavily on me and I asked myself if I could really take it lightly. I engaged in my usual trick of projecting myself several months or years into the future and looking back, first imagining I had chosen one option and then the other and gauging how I felt about each. Would I be happier knowing I stayed in NZ as long as possible or knowing I came home and enjoyed spending time with my parents and friends as much as possible. Would 1.5 months be enough; would 3 months be too much? Unfortunately this technique didn't turn out to be as straightforward as I'd hoped, but definitely helped.
Another factor was money. Though I had finally found a good job (great managers, single room included in exchange for the first 8 hours of work each week), it only paid the equivalent of $6 USD an hour. Throughout the trip I had recorded every purchase I'd made and made predictions of how much I would have spent and earned if I returned to the US at different times. I looked at these numbers and reworked them constantly. Basically I was afraid of heading to Wisconsin having just unloaded wads of cash. I knew I'd be miserable if I spent my time at Madison keeping to myself doing everything to save a penny. It looked like the only way to avoid that would be to come home and find work here, where I'd have no expenses living at home (my only expenses in Wanganui were food and phone bills). Obviously this made my decision partly hinge on whether or not I could find a job at home, which during the current economical situation seemed risky at best, but for some reason I was optimistic, probably blindly so. But anyway with Brookhaven Marketplacae just opening nearby I guess I was really lucky in that regard.
I don't know if this would have continued, but towards the end of my stay in NZ I found myself becoming increasingly frustrated when presented with language barriers between me and the lodge patrons. That plus the sad position of having only one day/night to meet people made the job even more lonely. Also Wanganui turned out to be a pretty boring town. After the obvious tourist attractions I found myself pretty bored. I read extensively, but I wasn't sure I could keep that up for another 6 weeks. In truth I suppose I didn't try hard enough to invest myself into the town. I learned later that one of the other backpackers who had had my job at some earlier time had joined a local ping pong club, for instance. But then again with my limited interests and talents, and having felt somewhat burned out on exploring new things by that time, I probably wouldn't have fared well with anything like that.
Other factors I considered: 1) training. I was running 20-30 mpw in Wanganui, but wasn't feeling like I was progressing very much, and was rapidly burning out on the few running routes I could create, plus I felt like I'd be better able to do things like core strengthening at home. 2) food. After settling into Wanganui, my meals were becoming boringly consistent. Breakfast was always oatmeal or eggs and toast, lunch was always PB&J, and dinner was either spaghetti, or rice mixed with some form of canned dinner, or the occasional pizza. Plus I somehow became dependent on having a bowl of ice cream before going to bed. I knew if I returned home I'd have a much greater opportunity for expanding my cooking and eating horizons (which I guess is ironic considering I was in a foreign country).
So here I am at home. I honestly believe I made the best choice for me. Since returning home I've come up with various other solutions, all of which involved taking another year off before starting grad school, which I still believe might have the best option initially and I'm still kicking myself for not really considering it from the outset, but so it goes. I'm definitely glad to have the opportunity to spend more time with my friends and family, something that wouldn't be true had I added another year of travel to the life schedule. But I know for sure that once I get that DPT I'm going to be on the first flight out of here. I'm thinking Europe.
Monday, May 4, 2009
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
Kiwiana
So not much has changed on the job or Wanganui scene lately. Therefore this entry will be dedicated to Kiwiana, all things inherently Kiwi.
I'll start with food, because I love food, and because I'm hungry. New Zealand has about 4 million people and about 40 million sheep (something like that). Consequently lamb is damn near everywhere. When I arrived here I decided I should do my best to eat only at restaurants that will only be available to me here in New Zealand, but that hasn't stopped me from going to Subway a dozen times for roast lamb sandwiches. I'd tried lamb in the past in the US, but it is significantly less common and probably not quite as delicioso. I've also had lamb kebabs (no shortage of kebab shops in NZ), barbecued lamb chops, and lamb burgers. I can't get enough.
As far as fast food, Burger King and McDonald's are damn near everywhere, but NZ's pride is the Burger Fuel. A standard fast food burger joint I guess, but the burgers are clearly larger, and the fries overwhelmingly saltier. Also of note is the McCafe, and McDonald's attachment that serves stuff like muffins and scones and whatever else people who wake up early enough for breakfast might eat on the way to work.
Probably the third largest American-style fast food chain, and the only one I've successfully avoided so far, is KFC.
While shopping for groceries, I've discovered that no supermarkets carry turkey, just ham, chicken, and bacon that looks like ham. Also "granola" doesn't exist here. They have what is called "Muesli" (pronounced myoosli, if that helps), sold in bags of Muesli, Muesli bars, and breakfast cereals.
Lastly, there is a major Cadbury headquarters in New Zealand. Consequently pretty much any supermarket or convenience store sells these large Cadbury chocolate bars that come in roughly 8000 flavors. I wonder how many I can fit into my bag on the flight back home.
On to music. Now I've never been hip with the latest hop, so I couldn't say for sure what's different about the music here from back home since I rarely heard new music back home. But I'll make some guesses. One of the most popular bands both here and in the UK is Kings of Leon, who apparently are from Nashville and are only moderately successful in the USA. They're pretty good, but I still don't know what it means when someone says 'your sex is on fire'. The Killers are also pretty huge here, but that's different cause they're a really good band anyway.
A couple other standouts are Midnight Youth, which may are may not have a big following in the US but I've recently learned they'll be playing at South by Southwest music festival in Austin, so if they're not big in the States yet I'm sure they soon will be.
Also is Tiki Taane (sp?). They only song I know by this Maori musician is some mellow acoustic guitar song called 'Always On My Mind' which gets played extensively.
Apparently there are some differences in bar music between NZ and US as well. I've been to at least half a dozen bars that have played either Summer Nights from Grease or some sort of Grease medley. Also Living on a Prayer by Bon Jovi is huge, apparently because some guy sang it really well on New Zealand Idol a few years ago.
Finally, and this may be the most important part, I have heard "Don't Stop Me Now" played at two bars, which led me to discover that a girl from Brazil and one from Denmark both know all the words to the song. The world is a beautiful place.
I'll start with food, because I love food, and because I'm hungry. New Zealand has about 4 million people and about 40 million sheep (something like that). Consequently lamb is damn near everywhere. When I arrived here I decided I should do my best to eat only at restaurants that will only be available to me here in New Zealand, but that hasn't stopped me from going to Subway a dozen times for roast lamb sandwiches. I'd tried lamb in the past in the US, but it is significantly less common and probably not quite as delicioso. I've also had lamb kebabs (no shortage of kebab shops in NZ), barbecued lamb chops, and lamb burgers. I can't get enough.
As far as fast food, Burger King and McDonald's are damn near everywhere, but NZ's pride is the Burger Fuel. A standard fast food burger joint I guess, but the burgers are clearly larger, and the fries overwhelmingly saltier. Also of note is the McCafe, and McDonald's attachment that serves stuff like muffins and scones and whatever else people who wake up early enough for breakfast might eat on the way to work.
Probably the third largest American-style fast food chain, and the only one I've successfully avoided so far, is KFC.
While shopping for groceries, I've discovered that no supermarkets carry turkey, just ham, chicken, and bacon that looks like ham. Also "granola" doesn't exist here. They have what is called "Muesli" (pronounced myoosli, if that helps), sold in bags of Muesli, Muesli bars, and breakfast cereals.
Lastly, there is a major Cadbury headquarters in New Zealand. Consequently pretty much any supermarket or convenience store sells these large Cadbury chocolate bars that come in roughly 8000 flavors. I wonder how many I can fit into my bag on the flight back home.
On to music. Now I've never been hip with the latest hop, so I couldn't say for sure what's different about the music here from back home since I rarely heard new music back home. But I'll make some guesses. One of the most popular bands both here and in the UK is Kings of Leon, who apparently are from Nashville and are only moderately successful in the USA. They're pretty good, but I still don't know what it means when someone says 'your sex is on fire'. The Killers are also pretty huge here, but that's different cause they're a really good band anyway.
A couple other standouts are Midnight Youth, which may are may not have a big following in the US but I've recently learned they'll be playing at South by Southwest music festival in Austin, so if they're not big in the States yet I'm sure they soon will be.
Also is Tiki Taane (sp?). They only song I know by this Maori musician is some mellow acoustic guitar song called 'Always On My Mind' which gets played extensively.
Apparently there are some differences in bar music between NZ and US as well. I've been to at least half a dozen bars that have played either Summer Nights from Grease or some sort of Grease medley. Also Living on a Prayer by Bon Jovi is huge, apparently because some guy sang it really well on New Zealand Idol a few years ago.
Finally, and this may be the most important part, I have heard "Don't Stop Me Now" played at two bars, which led me to discover that a girl from Brazil and one from Denmark both know all the words to the song. The world is a beautiful place.
Sunday, February 15, 2009
Tamara Lodge Backpackers
I am the receptionist and housekeeper for the Tamara Lodge Backpackers. Monday through Friday I only work evenings since they have a standard live-at-home worker for those mornings, but the weekends are crunch time, when I work 9-10 on Saturday (2-3 hour break in the middle) and 9-9 on Sunday (no break).
The weekday evenings work is pretty simple. For 3 hours (5 on Fridays) I have to make sure the kitchen has some semblance of cleanliness and orderliness, and every hour or so I have to make sure the bathrooms have enough teepee and clean towels. Plus I fold and put away all the linens that were washed that morning. Aside from that I mostly just read or watch tv or meet some foreigners, but as long as I'm on duty I'm on call at the front desk, meaning whenever anybody needs to check in or has any question about anything I have to come running. Usually this means selling wireless internet vouchers, phone cards, answering questions about stuff to do around town, giving tours of the facilities, getting towels, and taking reservations.
Weekend evenings are the same thing, but the mornings are quite a bit more involved. As guests check out, I have to strip their beds, chemically-sanitize their rooms, vacuum the floors, wash the linens, hang the washed linens on our clothesline, scrub the bathrooms, and thoroughly wipe down the kitchen. As I'm doing this I have to be on constant alert for the bell at the front desk for check-ins, check-outs, and more questions. It's a good thing there isn't a whole lot to do in this town and that it's hard to fill the non-work hours, because it makes the long weekend hours a welcome break from idleness.
There are only 2 backpackers in Wanganui (that I know of) so we get quite a variety of guests. We get small families, the elderly, the mid-life crises, the partiers, and the barely-speak-Englishers. Let me introduce to some of the more memorable ones.
There's Lucy from the US, who is traveling around NZ via bicycle, which is both crazy and completely awesome (I've met a few others doing the same since she arrived). She always taught me how to fold fitted sheets.
Werner is from Germany. He was in town for the New Zealand Masters Games, which is like a mini-Olympics for anyone over 35 including events such as the 5k run, croquet, euchre, line dancing, badminton, swimming, and scrabble. Werner talks like the guy from Mary Poppins who can't stop laughing and floating up into the air.
Evelyn has perhaps the most stereotypically proper British accent you can imagine. She is a sweet old lady who asked me for advice on what trainers to buy.
There's the octuplet of 7 Americans and one German who were in NZ for some church mission thingy. They gave me free ice cream.
Paolo comes from Italy. Paolo was probably the best example of the high standards/high maintenance traveler who at the same time wants to travel on the cheap. When you stay at a backpackers you should have certain expectations, one of which is the fact that you are not at a five-star hotel. Paolo forgot about these expectations. Requests included: someone to do his laundry, rides to and from the bus station, someone to make phone calls for him, and breakfast.
Geoff is a 44 year old man from England who could easily replace Johnny Depp as Captain Jack Sparrow because the doest the best impression I can imagine ever hearing. He gave me some free beer, and after I gave him the tour and showed him to his room, he asked if there were any ghosts.
As for the other employees, Fiona is a local who does the weekday morning/early afternoon shifts. She's very friendly and sympathizes with new employees thankfully.
The place is owned by Barbara and Rory. Barbara comes from Canada, apparently from a place voted the friendliest town in Canada, which is definitely saying something. Rory comes from NZ. Earlier in his life he did his own fair share of traveling, hitchhiking across the US from west to east, and doing the same in Europe before working at a travelers' lodge in Holland, without speaking any Dutch. Together they make the best managers I've ever had. Yesterday they made too many mussels for dinner so they gave me a whole bowl full of the extras. They were amazing.
Future blog updates: my take on New Zealand food and music, as well as what I should have done differently.
The weekday evenings work is pretty simple. For 3 hours (5 on Fridays) I have to make sure the kitchen has some semblance of cleanliness and orderliness, and every hour or so I have to make sure the bathrooms have enough teepee and clean towels. Plus I fold and put away all the linens that were washed that morning. Aside from that I mostly just read or watch tv or meet some foreigners, but as long as I'm on duty I'm on call at the front desk, meaning whenever anybody needs to check in or has any question about anything I have to come running. Usually this means selling wireless internet vouchers, phone cards, answering questions about stuff to do around town, giving tours of the facilities, getting towels, and taking reservations.
Weekend evenings are the same thing, but the mornings are quite a bit more involved. As guests check out, I have to strip their beds, chemically-sanitize their rooms, vacuum the floors, wash the linens, hang the washed linens on our clothesline, scrub the bathrooms, and thoroughly wipe down the kitchen. As I'm doing this I have to be on constant alert for the bell at the front desk for check-ins, check-outs, and more questions. It's a good thing there isn't a whole lot to do in this town and that it's hard to fill the non-work hours, because it makes the long weekend hours a welcome break from idleness.
There are only 2 backpackers in Wanganui (that I know of) so we get quite a variety of guests. We get small families, the elderly, the mid-life crises, the partiers, and the barely-speak-Englishers. Let me introduce to some of the more memorable ones.
There's Lucy from the US, who is traveling around NZ via bicycle, which is both crazy and completely awesome (I've met a few others doing the same since she arrived). She always taught me how to fold fitted sheets.
Werner is from Germany. He was in town for the New Zealand Masters Games, which is like a mini-Olympics for anyone over 35 including events such as the 5k run, croquet, euchre, line dancing, badminton, swimming, and scrabble. Werner talks like the guy from Mary Poppins who can't stop laughing and floating up into the air.
Evelyn has perhaps the most stereotypically proper British accent you can imagine. She is a sweet old lady who asked me for advice on what trainers to buy.
There's the octuplet of 7 Americans and one German who were in NZ for some church mission thingy. They gave me free ice cream.
Paolo comes from Italy. Paolo was probably the best example of the high standards/high maintenance traveler who at the same time wants to travel on the cheap. When you stay at a backpackers you should have certain expectations, one of which is the fact that you are not at a five-star hotel. Paolo forgot about these expectations. Requests included: someone to do his laundry, rides to and from the bus station, someone to make phone calls for him, and breakfast.
Geoff is a 44 year old man from England who could easily replace Johnny Depp as Captain Jack Sparrow because the doest the best impression I can imagine ever hearing. He gave me some free beer, and after I gave him the tour and showed him to his room, he asked if there were any ghosts.
As for the other employees, Fiona is a local who does the weekday morning/early afternoon shifts. She's very friendly and sympathizes with new employees thankfully.
The place is owned by Barbara and Rory. Barbara comes from Canada, apparently from a place voted the friendliest town in Canada, which is definitely saying something. Rory comes from NZ. Earlier in his life he did his own fair share of traveling, hitchhiking across the US from west to east, and doing the same in Europe before working at a travelers' lodge in Holland, without speaking any Dutch. Together they make the best managers I've ever had. Yesterday they made too many mussels for dinner so they gave me a whole bowl full of the extras. They were amazing.
Future blog updates: my take on New Zealand food and music, as well as what I should have done differently.
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
Wanganui
Wanga=big, nui=harbor. I learned that on a tour of the Whanganui River Rd. That wasn't a typo. The town is called Wanganui, but the river and most things associated with it are called Whanganui, which is the more typical Maori spelling and there are attempts to make it the universal spelling for all things associated with the town.
Wanganui is not a terribly big town. There is a main stree that has all of the shops, cafes, a few bars, and eateries, and outside of this street there isn't a whole lot going on. One reason this town appealed to me is that I knew I wouldn't be overly tempted to spend money while I'm working here trying to save up, and I was right. I haven't seen or heard of much nightlife, but then again I've only been out past 9pm once since that first night so I'm hardly an expert.
This is a heritage-based town with a relatively strong Maori history, so two of the main attractions are the Wanganui Regional Museum and the Art Gallery, both of which feature exhibits about the history of the town and its people, so at least it's something different than what you'd see elsewhere in the country.
I also discovered after arriving that the nearby track in Cooks Gardens (about 10 minute walk from my lodge) is where Peter Snell set the mile world record back in whatever year he did that.
As a perk of my job, I got to do a few tours up the Whanganui River for free, ostensibly to learn about it so I can recommend it to the guests at the lodge. First was the mail tour, which means you ride up the Whanganui River Rd. with the mailman as he delivers the mail. Seriously. The River Rd is a narrow windy road leading past a bunch of farms and some Maori villages and such, so the mailman points out interesting historical sites and stories along the way. Plus the view is absolutely beautiful. The next free tour was the Bridge to Nowhere package. After WWII some soldiers were given land to farm, but apparently the land was largely unfarmable. Before they figured that out they had built a bridge to connect the area to a more populated region, but then the farmers gradually evacuated leaving a bridge seemingly in the middle of nowhere with no roads on either side of it. So we took a jetboat up the river, again with stops for stories and interesting landmarks, hiked to the bridge for lunch, and had a mini-canoe trip back to the start, including a few mild rapids and beautiful scenery once again.
Last Friday was Waitangi Day. Back in some year or other after the Europeans had invaded the land and had trouble with the indigenous Maori, the Treaty of Waitangi was signed to signify peace between the groups, so this is one of the more widely celebrated national holidays. The celebration in Wanganui was modest, with a few bands playing, some Maori songs and dances, various stands selling cheap food and souvenirs, and apparently some wakas riding around the river. A waka is an extremely long canoe-like structure paddled by a ton of Maori. This is also where I first met Rab. After my incident one of the calls I received was from some guy named Rab, who I was naturally skeptical of at first and for various reasons had not yet met up with, but he spotted me at the fair. He's a veteran of world travel, is a chain-smoker, and explained to me why he wants to become an anarchist. A bit off-putting perhaps, but all things considered he's a friendly and considerate guy and I appreciated him making the effort to help me out.
Next time, a step-by-step guide to working at a backpackers lodge, plus I'll introduce you to some of the more memorable guests.
Wanganui is not a terribly big town. There is a main stree that has all of the shops, cafes, a few bars, and eateries, and outside of this street there isn't a whole lot going on. One reason this town appealed to me is that I knew I wouldn't be overly tempted to spend money while I'm working here trying to save up, and I was right. I haven't seen or heard of much nightlife, but then again I've only been out past 9pm once since that first night so I'm hardly an expert.
This is a heritage-based town with a relatively strong Maori history, so two of the main attractions are the Wanganui Regional Museum and the Art Gallery, both of which feature exhibits about the history of the town and its people, so at least it's something different than what you'd see elsewhere in the country.
I also discovered after arriving that the nearby track in Cooks Gardens (about 10 minute walk from my lodge) is where Peter Snell set the mile world record back in whatever year he did that.
As a perk of my job, I got to do a few tours up the Whanganui River for free, ostensibly to learn about it so I can recommend it to the guests at the lodge. First was the mail tour, which means you ride up the Whanganui River Rd. with the mailman as he delivers the mail. Seriously. The River Rd is a narrow windy road leading past a bunch of farms and some Maori villages and such, so the mailman points out interesting historical sites and stories along the way. Plus the view is absolutely beautiful. The next free tour was the Bridge to Nowhere package. After WWII some soldiers were given land to farm, but apparently the land was largely unfarmable. Before they figured that out they had built a bridge to connect the area to a more populated region, but then the farmers gradually evacuated leaving a bridge seemingly in the middle of nowhere with no roads on either side of it. So we took a jetboat up the river, again with stops for stories and interesting landmarks, hiked to the bridge for lunch, and had a mini-canoe trip back to the start, including a few mild rapids and beautiful scenery once again.
Last Friday was Waitangi Day. Back in some year or other after the Europeans had invaded the land and had trouble with the indigenous Maori, the Treaty of Waitangi was signed to signify peace between the groups, so this is one of the more widely celebrated national holidays. The celebration in Wanganui was modest, with a few bands playing, some Maori songs and dances, various stands selling cheap food and souvenirs, and apparently some wakas riding around the river. A waka is an extremely long canoe-like structure paddled by a ton of Maori. This is also where I first met Rab. After my incident one of the calls I received was from some guy named Rab, who I was naturally skeptical of at first and for various reasons had not yet met up with, but he spotted me at the fair. He's a veteran of world travel, is a chain-smoker, and explained to me why he wants to become an anarchist. A bit off-putting perhaps, but all things considered he's a friendly and considerate guy and I appreciated him making the effort to help me out.
Next time, a step-by-step guide to working at a backpackers lodge, plus I'll introduce you to some of the more memorable guests.
Sunday, February 1, 2009
Wanganui=1, Jeff=0
Alright I guess it's time to give the story of my first night in Wanganui. Enough time has passed to allow me to recover both physically and mentally/emotionally, but I've probably already blown it way out of proportion, so calm down.
I arrived in Wanganui by bus at about 7:30pm. I checked into the hostel, set my stuff down, then set off for my standard routine of a self-guided walking tour of the town. I headed toward the city center, about a 5 minute walk from the hostel, and got some quick takeaway dinner on the way. The main focus of the city is a street called Victoria Avenue where most of the shops, cafes, and whatever else you need would be. After eating I started strolling along the avenue just getting a sense of the layout of the town, though I learned the next day that the direction I turned onto the avenue, though not necessarily a mistake, was the opposite of the more active and worthwhile part of the road. I figured since I'd be a receptionist at a backpackers it would be worthwhile to know where everything was in the city since I'd inevitably have to answer location questions for the travelers. After I reached a supermarket I decided I'd seen enough for one night, so I collected a few things to get me through the next few days, and began heading home. Naturally, to further my exploration of the town, I walked a different way back than the way I had come, taking me down some residential roads. After wandering for about 10 minutes loosely in the direction of my hostel, I became aware of a few male voices behind me. The last thing I remember was stepping off the sidewalk into the road, as a means of letting them pass by me as they were clearly walking faster than I was, and I could tell by the sounds of their voices that they followed this movement.
The next memory I have, though to think back on it now it seems as much like remembering a dream than an actual event, is of me laying on the asphalt moaning and hearing a few girls' voices standing over me.
The next memory after that is laying in a hospital bed, my new boss sitting in a chair off to one side, and somebody (a police officer) taking pictures of me. I had been attacked and mugged on my way home from the supermarket.
I don't remember much of that night in the hospital except that I had some xrays taken and that there was blood on my clothes, pillow, and blanket, and my memory started to serve me better as I was led to another room to change clothes and spend the night. The next morning I had a few more doctor visits, including a CT scan, and was joined again by my new boss at the hostel. Though I have no idea how anyone would have known that I worked for him, and though I have no recollection of doing so, I guess I must have mentioned the name of the lodge while being taken to the hospital the previous night because I couldn't figure out how Rory (my boss) even knew I was there. He talked to me through the morning to comfort me which was a welcome relief from the confused loneliness of sitting in the bed alone morning.
After a quick shower I was debriefed by a police officer to get every detail possible out of the case. She promised me that they had several leads, something I took with optimism though still highly doubted to be true. I knew there was basically no hope since at no point did I ever actually see the attackers.
Back to that shower for a second, it's a really weird feeling to hold your head under a shower and see red-tinged water fall to the ground. I had a wound on my head that was still bleeding slightly the next morning, not to mention all the dried blood that had accumulated there since the previous night.
My best guess is that I was hit at least twice. I had the wound on my head, another on my forehead over my right eye, another on the bridge of my nose, a black left eye, but the most significant injury was what was revelead during the CT scan. All night my nose had felt clogged and was apparently swollen and very tender. In fact my teeth and gums on the left side of my mouth are still a bit sore today, nearly 2 weeks later. Anyway the CT scan revelead a crack in my maxillary bone. Fortunately the doctor said surgery wasn't required and that with some simple medication it should heal alright. Also I had cuts over pretty much all of my knuckles including a few minor chunks taken out of some knuckles on my left hand. No idea how that happened, though I like to entertain the possibility suggested to me by someone at the hospital that I had fought back, unlikely as that is.
The next few days were bizarre. The local paper interviewed me and I was front page material the next day. The following day I was in the library using free internet (cmon, backpacker budget) and some elderly lady stopped me. She asked if I was that boy from the paper, and though I hadn't seen the article yet I knew what she meant. She repeatedly expressed her sorrow, despite my refusals she insistently offered me $5. I wish she hadn't done it in a public place because I had to really try to hold myself back from crying. When I returned to the hostel the dayshift employee informed me I had receieved several phone calls from other locals offering their condolences. She also handed me a heartfelt letter someone had dropped off which included $20. At that point I had to rush to my room because I couldn't hold back the tears that time.
Over the next few days I had received about a dozen phone calls, $25 in cash, a free breakfast, and about 4 or 5 offers for accomodation or a meal. Other than the breakfast, I have to admit that I didn't actually take up any of the other offers, mostly because I was uncomfortable with the idea, also because I lost the number of one of the families I intended to call back. But at the free breakfast the newspaper reporter and photographer returned for a followup story, which again garnered a few public recognitions, inlcuding by Bill from San Francisco who informed me that I was the 'talk of the lodge owners' who were worried about what this meant for the future of travel through their town. However Rory mentioned more than once that he's had over 100,000 people pass through his lodge and I'm the first one to experience anything like that in town. Never be the first to do anything.
I'd have to say that I was very lucky in several ways. I was lucky they knocked me unconscious from the start so that I didn't have to actually "experience" any of the attack, though from a police standoint that was probably a bad thing. I was lucky the girls found me so quickly and called the police. I'm lucky Rory is such a considerate person. He really helped me through that morning at the hospital. I'm lucky I already had a job and accomodation lined up. Imagine if I had been just some independent traveler passing through town. I would have had no food, money, or place to stay, and that though terrifies me. Though I was able to cancel all my cards immediately and replace my New Zealand bank card, I only had $30 left on it, so the past 2 weeks (I get my first paycheck on Wednesday) have been pretty meager in terms of food since I'm too humble to borrow money. I'm also lucky the people of this town care so much for the troubles of one lonely traveler, though I wish I had known ahead of time that there was mild gang activity in the area...... Also I was surprised and very relieved to find that they attackers took only my wallet, and not my passport which was in the same pocket as my wallet, and they left all the groceries I was carrying at the time.
Anyway I intentionally didn't mention this to anyone (except people passing through the hostel who kept asking why I had so many bruises) because I wanted to make sure it didn't come off as a big deal. My face has returned to its normal appearance, for better or worse, though my hat still has some blood stains on it, and my best guess is that my cheek crack is healing well. I'm pretty sure Corey is the only person who reads this, and possibly his dad apparently (hey Mr. Kubatzky), and I probably won't explicitly bring up the topic anywher else, so if it spreads from here then so it goes. I don't want to intentionally spread it or stifle the spread of it, although I still haven't told my parents because I didn't want them to spend the next few months needlessly worrying.
I came to New Zealand for a life experience, guess I got a bit more than I bargained for.
I arrived in Wanganui by bus at about 7:30pm. I checked into the hostel, set my stuff down, then set off for my standard routine of a self-guided walking tour of the town. I headed toward the city center, about a 5 minute walk from the hostel, and got some quick takeaway dinner on the way. The main focus of the city is a street called Victoria Avenue where most of the shops, cafes, and whatever else you need would be. After eating I started strolling along the avenue just getting a sense of the layout of the town, though I learned the next day that the direction I turned onto the avenue, though not necessarily a mistake, was the opposite of the more active and worthwhile part of the road. I figured since I'd be a receptionist at a backpackers it would be worthwhile to know where everything was in the city since I'd inevitably have to answer location questions for the travelers. After I reached a supermarket I decided I'd seen enough for one night, so I collected a few things to get me through the next few days, and began heading home. Naturally, to further my exploration of the town, I walked a different way back than the way I had come, taking me down some residential roads. After wandering for about 10 minutes loosely in the direction of my hostel, I became aware of a few male voices behind me. The last thing I remember was stepping off the sidewalk into the road, as a means of letting them pass by me as they were clearly walking faster than I was, and I could tell by the sounds of their voices that they followed this movement.
The next memory I have, though to think back on it now it seems as much like remembering a dream than an actual event, is of me laying on the asphalt moaning and hearing a few girls' voices standing over me.
The next memory after that is laying in a hospital bed, my new boss sitting in a chair off to one side, and somebody (a police officer) taking pictures of me. I had been attacked and mugged on my way home from the supermarket.
I don't remember much of that night in the hospital except that I had some xrays taken and that there was blood on my clothes, pillow, and blanket, and my memory started to serve me better as I was led to another room to change clothes and spend the night. The next morning I had a few more doctor visits, including a CT scan, and was joined again by my new boss at the hostel. Though I have no idea how anyone would have known that I worked for him, and though I have no recollection of doing so, I guess I must have mentioned the name of the lodge while being taken to the hospital the previous night because I couldn't figure out how Rory (my boss) even knew I was there. He talked to me through the morning to comfort me which was a welcome relief from the confused loneliness of sitting in the bed alone morning.
After a quick shower I was debriefed by a police officer to get every detail possible out of the case. She promised me that they had several leads, something I took with optimism though still highly doubted to be true. I knew there was basically no hope since at no point did I ever actually see the attackers.
Back to that shower for a second, it's a really weird feeling to hold your head under a shower and see red-tinged water fall to the ground. I had a wound on my head that was still bleeding slightly the next morning, not to mention all the dried blood that had accumulated there since the previous night.
My best guess is that I was hit at least twice. I had the wound on my head, another on my forehead over my right eye, another on the bridge of my nose, a black left eye, but the most significant injury was what was revelead during the CT scan. All night my nose had felt clogged and was apparently swollen and very tender. In fact my teeth and gums on the left side of my mouth are still a bit sore today, nearly 2 weeks later. Anyway the CT scan revelead a crack in my maxillary bone. Fortunately the doctor said surgery wasn't required and that with some simple medication it should heal alright. Also I had cuts over pretty much all of my knuckles including a few minor chunks taken out of some knuckles on my left hand. No idea how that happened, though I like to entertain the possibility suggested to me by someone at the hospital that I had fought back, unlikely as that is.
The next few days were bizarre. The local paper interviewed me and I was front page material the next day. The following day I was in the library using free internet (cmon, backpacker budget) and some elderly lady stopped me. She asked if I was that boy from the paper, and though I hadn't seen the article yet I knew what she meant. She repeatedly expressed her sorrow, despite my refusals she insistently offered me $5. I wish she hadn't done it in a public place because I had to really try to hold myself back from crying. When I returned to the hostel the dayshift employee informed me I had receieved several phone calls from other locals offering their condolences. She also handed me a heartfelt letter someone had dropped off which included $20. At that point I had to rush to my room because I couldn't hold back the tears that time.
Over the next few days I had received about a dozen phone calls, $25 in cash, a free breakfast, and about 4 or 5 offers for accomodation or a meal. Other than the breakfast, I have to admit that I didn't actually take up any of the other offers, mostly because I was uncomfortable with the idea, also because I lost the number of one of the families I intended to call back. But at the free breakfast the newspaper reporter and photographer returned for a followup story, which again garnered a few public recognitions, inlcuding by Bill from San Francisco who informed me that I was the 'talk of the lodge owners' who were worried about what this meant for the future of travel through their town. However Rory mentioned more than once that he's had over 100,000 people pass through his lodge and I'm the first one to experience anything like that in town. Never be the first to do anything.
I'd have to say that I was very lucky in several ways. I was lucky they knocked me unconscious from the start so that I didn't have to actually "experience" any of the attack, though from a police standoint that was probably a bad thing. I was lucky the girls found me so quickly and called the police. I'm lucky Rory is such a considerate person. He really helped me through that morning at the hospital. I'm lucky I already had a job and accomodation lined up. Imagine if I had been just some independent traveler passing through town. I would have had no food, money, or place to stay, and that though terrifies me. Though I was able to cancel all my cards immediately and replace my New Zealand bank card, I only had $30 left on it, so the past 2 weeks (I get my first paycheck on Wednesday) have been pretty meager in terms of food since I'm too humble to borrow money. I'm also lucky the people of this town care so much for the troubles of one lonely traveler, though I wish I had known ahead of time that there was mild gang activity in the area...... Also I was surprised and very relieved to find that they attackers took only my wallet, and not my passport which was in the same pocket as my wallet, and they left all the groceries I was carrying at the time.
Anyway I intentionally didn't mention this to anyone (except people passing through the hostel who kept asking why I had so many bruises) because I wanted to make sure it didn't come off as a big deal. My face has returned to its normal appearance, for better or worse, though my hat still has some blood stains on it, and my best guess is that my cheek crack is healing well. I'm pretty sure Corey is the only person who reads this, and possibly his dad apparently (hey Mr. Kubatzky), and I probably won't explicitly bring up the topic anywher else, so if it spreads from here then so it goes. I don't want to intentionally spread it or stifle the spread of it, although I still haven't told my parents because I didn't want them to spend the next few months needlessly worrying.
I came to New Zealand for a life experience, guess I got a bit more than I bargained for.
Thursday, January 29, 2009
Paihia and Wanganui
Next time I travel, and I will travel again, I really need to bring my laptop or something. I wish I could have kept up with this blog better instead of writing about events weeks after they've happened, but so it goes when you're traveling on a budget.
Anyway, to continue from my last post, after Queenstown I flew to Auckland and took a bus to Paihia, a small beach town in the Bay of Islands. It was here that I first become aggressively spending-conscious, which I think caused some social problems for myself. The hostel I worked at, the Peppertree Lodge, was about 100 meters away from the beach on a road that consisted of about 4 hostels and 4 bars, a dairy (the name for a New Zealand minimart), and a liqour store. Had I gone here at the beginning of my NZ trip I would have gladly accompanied the other workers/regulars at my hostel to the bars, but I made the disciplined decision to hold off, telling myself I'd had enough fun throwing money around on nightlife during the first 2.5 months I was here.
I was put in a room with a 29 year old girl from Ireland, sort of the TA of the houskeepers since she'd been there about 9 months already. After a few weeks in Paihia I had to seriously wonder how someone could spend 9 months there. It's a nice little vacation spot with not-so-great beaches, good enough for a few weeks or a month tops. Also in the room were a 20 something London girl and a 24 year old German girl. It was me and three girls. I quickly stashed my meager belongings in the only corner not infested with clothes and accessories. The job wasn't quite as gratifying as the free-meal-with-almost-no-work gig I had in Queenstown. It was 7 days a week whereas virtually every other hostel in NZ has its workers going no more than 6 days a week. My tasks typically including cleaning the bathrooms, which meant pretty thoroughly wiping the showers and toilets and mopping floors and such. It really wasn't that difficult though I definitely needed to designate some 'cleaning clothes' due to all the chemicals I was using. If I finished too early I'd usually have to sweep the courtyard or wash windows or any other miscellaneous tasks the Irish girl or Jan could come up with. Jan was the hostel co-owner. Something in her expression always made her seem upset or incredulous at how badly I was doing my job, but I learned that that's just how she looks, because she turned out to be a fairly considerate, conscientious host simply looking out for the best business interests of her hostel. Plus nearly every day after we finished cleaning she'd have cake or biscuits or something prepared for us, even chicken wings one day. Since the other cleaners were all self-conscious girls I ate a crapload of chocolate cake during the few weeks I was there.
Job searching went horribly in Paihia. There isn't a whole lot there to begin with, but having arrived just before New Years most cafes and bars were already fully staffed. The only place that was willing to offer me a job needed me to work during my housekeeping hours, and that just wouldn't have been worth the negligble profits I would have made. About a week into Paihia I started looking on a recently rediscovered job search site for something new. I began by emailing virtually every hostel in Auckland to see if I could do some work-for-accom there. I figured it would be easier to find a job in the big city, plus I wouldn't have to worry about traveling back there before my flight home, plus Caroline Wool will be there starting late Feb for a semester abroad, so it would be great to see and spend time with a familiar face. Unfortunately of the few places that responded to my emails none needed workers.
I decided to try to make the most of my time in Paihia for as little money as possible. With a few secondhand bookstores I managed to buy 4 books in the 2.5 weeks I was there for a total of about $10 NZ (about $6 USD). Not bad. I picked up my running a bit, though I didn't respond as well to the hill training as I'd hoped and that's really all there is around that town. Most days consisted of houskeeping for about 2.5 hours, then laying on the beach for most of the day and maybe watching a movie or two at the hostel since there was a pretty respectable DVD/video library. Towards the end I started making good use of the free tennis court (apparently you have to pay to use most public tennis courts in NZ, but our hostel had a free pass) along with Anselm, the new German (male) housekeeper who started a few days before I left. I don't know what the housekeeper turnover rate was like before I showed up, but I only stuck around for 2.5 weeks, then a brief chat with Anselm a week later told me that he left shortly after and Vicky, the Argentinian girl who started about the same time as Anslem also left a few days later. I felt pretty bad, and I know I would have been really pissed off and probably distraught if I was in Jan's position, but that's the problem with backpackers, they come and go as the winds take them.
One of the more memorable things I did while in Paihia came at the suggestion of Josh, an Edmonton, Alberta, Canada native who was living at the hostel for a few months while working in town. One of the tourist highlights in NZ is Cape Reinga. It is the most northern tip of the country, at which lies a poetic-looking lighthouse and where you can also see the Atlantic Ocean and Tasman Sea crash into each other. Cape Reinga is about 3 hours drive from Paihia, and bus tours usually run about $100 NZ. Josh and I hitchhiked there and back. Never in my life thought I would hitchhike, though apparently it's not terribly uncommon or dangerous in NZ, as long as you're sensible about it. I met some German guy in Paihia who said he used hitchhiking as his only means of getting around the whole country and never had problems. Anyway we got pretty lucky, never having to wait more than about 20 minutes in any one spot for a ride (we took 3 separate rides there and back, all from Kiwis).
Regret about Paihia: I wish I could have participated in the nightlife more, though to be honest I wasn't big fans of a few of the regulars at the hostel and didn't totally mind not getting to hang out with them. I also never used the free kayaks or bikes available at the hostel. The bikes probably would have hurt like hell with all the hills and there was nowhere I particularly wanted to ride to, but I love kayaking, and there are a few tiny, rocky islands scattered not far from the main shore of the nearby beach. I did do a coastal walk from Paihia to nearby Opua, which lasted about 2 hours each way, but unfortunately my camera battery died so documenting some of the nice views there didn't go so well.
And New Years! Not terribly exciting unfortunately. We went to a bar across the road around 10pm, which turned out to suck, then headed into the main part of town to check out another bar, which also mostly sucked. Some of the bars had a big prepay deal, but none of us were game for that. Fortunately it was a nice night and there were a lot of people just roaming the streets and lounging around on the Village Green. And the fireworks on the beach were actually pretty good, but all in all not a particularly memorable night, which is probably why I forgot to mention it until this late in the post.
Around the 2nd week of January I found a job listing at a backpacker lodge in Wanganui. Going to Queenstown I had absolutely nothing lined up, for either a job or for work-for-accomodation (so I was pretty lucky to get the latter one at all). Going to Paihia I had a work-for-accom spot ready but no job. Third time's the charm I guess, because the Wanganui job included both accomodation and pay. I responded to the notice within a few hours after it was posted, and a few emails and phone calls later the job was mine. Another nice thing about the job is that Wanganui happens to lie on the west coast of the North Island. Aside from being in a region I hadn't visited yet, it gave me the exciting idea to hop back on the Stray tour bus in Auckland and use that as my transportation to my new hometown. It would be a bit more expensive than a direct bus, but I love the casalness and the chance to easily meet more likeminded travelers that comes with Stray travel. I'm glad I had already done the tour once though, because several of the main attractions of the first week of the tour ended up being canceled this time around, causing most of the people to hop off and wait for the next bus, leaving a bus with me, our driver Ali Barbar, and about 5 swedes (only one of them female, already dating one of the male swedes, sadly).
On Tuesday, January 20th, I finally arrived in Wanganui, where I was treated to a most unexpected welcoming committee several hours later.
But that's a story for next time.
Anyway, to continue from my last post, after Queenstown I flew to Auckland and took a bus to Paihia, a small beach town in the Bay of Islands. It was here that I first become aggressively spending-conscious, which I think caused some social problems for myself. The hostel I worked at, the Peppertree Lodge, was about 100 meters away from the beach on a road that consisted of about 4 hostels and 4 bars, a dairy (the name for a New Zealand minimart), and a liqour store. Had I gone here at the beginning of my NZ trip I would have gladly accompanied the other workers/regulars at my hostel to the bars, but I made the disciplined decision to hold off, telling myself I'd had enough fun throwing money around on nightlife during the first 2.5 months I was here.
I was put in a room with a 29 year old girl from Ireland, sort of the TA of the houskeepers since she'd been there about 9 months already. After a few weeks in Paihia I had to seriously wonder how someone could spend 9 months there. It's a nice little vacation spot with not-so-great beaches, good enough for a few weeks or a month tops. Also in the room were a 20 something London girl and a 24 year old German girl. It was me and three girls. I quickly stashed my meager belongings in the only corner not infested with clothes and accessories. The job wasn't quite as gratifying as the free-meal-with-almost-no-work gig I had in Queenstown. It was 7 days a week whereas virtually every other hostel in NZ has its workers going no more than 6 days a week. My tasks typically including cleaning the bathrooms, which meant pretty thoroughly wiping the showers and toilets and mopping floors and such. It really wasn't that difficult though I definitely needed to designate some 'cleaning clothes' due to all the chemicals I was using. If I finished too early I'd usually have to sweep the courtyard or wash windows or any other miscellaneous tasks the Irish girl or Jan could come up with. Jan was the hostel co-owner. Something in her expression always made her seem upset or incredulous at how badly I was doing my job, but I learned that that's just how she looks, because she turned out to be a fairly considerate, conscientious host simply looking out for the best business interests of her hostel. Plus nearly every day after we finished cleaning she'd have cake or biscuits or something prepared for us, even chicken wings one day. Since the other cleaners were all self-conscious girls I ate a crapload of chocolate cake during the few weeks I was there.
Job searching went horribly in Paihia. There isn't a whole lot there to begin with, but having arrived just before New Years most cafes and bars were already fully staffed. The only place that was willing to offer me a job needed me to work during my housekeeping hours, and that just wouldn't have been worth the negligble profits I would have made. About a week into Paihia I started looking on a recently rediscovered job search site for something new. I began by emailing virtually every hostel in Auckland to see if I could do some work-for-accom there. I figured it would be easier to find a job in the big city, plus I wouldn't have to worry about traveling back there before my flight home, plus Caroline Wool will be there starting late Feb for a semester abroad, so it would be great to see and spend time with a familiar face. Unfortunately of the few places that responded to my emails none needed workers.
I decided to try to make the most of my time in Paihia for as little money as possible. With a few secondhand bookstores I managed to buy 4 books in the 2.5 weeks I was there for a total of about $10 NZ (about $6 USD). Not bad. I picked up my running a bit, though I didn't respond as well to the hill training as I'd hoped and that's really all there is around that town. Most days consisted of houskeeping for about 2.5 hours, then laying on the beach for most of the day and maybe watching a movie or two at the hostel since there was a pretty respectable DVD/video library. Towards the end I started making good use of the free tennis court (apparently you have to pay to use most public tennis courts in NZ, but our hostel had a free pass) along with Anselm, the new German (male) housekeeper who started a few days before I left. I don't know what the housekeeper turnover rate was like before I showed up, but I only stuck around for 2.5 weeks, then a brief chat with Anselm a week later told me that he left shortly after and Vicky, the Argentinian girl who started about the same time as Anslem also left a few days later. I felt pretty bad, and I know I would have been really pissed off and probably distraught if I was in Jan's position, but that's the problem with backpackers, they come and go as the winds take them.
One of the more memorable things I did while in Paihia came at the suggestion of Josh, an Edmonton, Alberta, Canada native who was living at the hostel for a few months while working in town. One of the tourist highlights in NZ is Cape Reinga. It is the most northern tip of the country, at which lies a poetic-looking lighthouse and where you can also see the Atlantic Ocean and Tasman Sea crash into each other. Cape Reinga is about 3 hours drive from Paihia, and bus tours usually run about $100 NZ. Josh and I hitchhiked there and back. Never in my life thought I would hitchhike, though apparently it's not terribly uncommon or dangerous in NZ, as long as you're sensible about it. I met some German guy in Paihia who said he used hitchhiking as his only means of getting around the whole country and never had problems. Anyway we got pretty lucky, never having to wait more than about 20 minutes in any one spot for a ride (we took 3 separate rides there and back, all from Kiwis).
Regret about Paihia: I wish I could have participated in the nightlife more, though to be honest I wasn't big fans of a few of the regulars at the hostel and didn't totally mind not getting to hang out with them. I also never used the free kayaks or bikes available at the hostel. The bikes probably would have hurt like hell with all the hills and there was nowhere I particularly wanted to ride to, but I love kayaking, and there are a few tiny, rocky islands scattered not far from the main shore of the nearby beach. I did do a coastal walk from Paihia to nearby Opua, which lasted about 2 hours each way, but unfortunately my camera battery died so documenting some of the nice views there didn't go so well.
And New Years! Not terribly exciting unfortunately. We went to a bar across the road around 10pm, which turned out to suck, then headed into the main part of town to check out another bar, which also mostly sucked. Some of the bars had a big prepay deal, but none of us were game for that. Fortunately it was a nice night and there were a lot of people just roaming the streets and lounging around on the Village Green. And the fireworks on the beach were actually pretty good, but all in all not a particularly memorable night, which is probably why I forgot to mention it until this late in the post.
Around the 2nd week of January I found a job listing at a backpacker lodge in Wanganui. Going to Queenstown I had absolutely nothing lined up, for either a job or for work-for-accomodation (so I was pretty lucky to get the latter one at all). Going to Paihia I had a work-for-accom spot ready but no job. Third time's the charm I guess, because the Wanganui job included both accomodation and pay. I responded to the notice within a few hours after it was posted, and a few emails and phone calls later the job was mine. Another nice thing about the job is that Wanganui happens to lie on the west coast of the North Island. Aside from being in a region I hadn't visited yet, it gave me the exciting idea to hop back on the Stray tour bus in Auckland and use that as my transportation to my new hometown. It would be a bit more expensive than a direct bus, but I love the casalness and the chance to easily meet more likeminded travelers that comes with Stray travel. I'm glad I had already done the tour once though, because several of the main attractions of the first week of the tour ended up being canceled this time around, causing most of the people to hop off and wait for the next bus, leaving a bus with me, our driver Ali Barbar, and about 5 swedes (only one of them female, already dating one of the male swedes, sadly).
On Tuesday, January 20th, I finally arrived in Wanganui, where I was treated to a most unexpected welcoming committee several hours later.
But that's a story for next time.
Thursday, January 22, 2009
Movin' Out
Obviously I let the ball drop a bit with this blog. Here's what you missed.
So last time we met I was starting work in Queenstown. After having little luck finding work I suddenly found myself with 3 jobs. I'll take these one at a time.
After my glassy trial at the Buffalo Club I was asked if I wanted to come back. I said I'd think about. I didn't immediately say yes because I thought I did a horrible job and I didn't enjoy it much. I didn't immediately say no because I have a weak-willed tendency to doubt myself and it's usually in my best interest to give decisions like that some sleep and further thought. I returned the next day to say I would accept the job, having decided I needed the money and that it would probably get better as I gained experience. They told me I was in fact scheduled for that night, which is weird. I returned that night to start work and was told by the manager that they weren't sure whether I was returning and had scheduled someone else for the shift. They promised to call me back to work out paperwork and a schedule. Days and weeks passed and they never called back, and neither did I because frankly I didn't care much for the job. I kept the t-shirt though. Suckers.
My other job was a kitchenhand at the Vudu Cafe. The trial went ok, and virtually everyone there was extremely friendly and helpful. However it became apparent that the trial was a bit misleading, as each day on the job I found myself with more and more duties such as garbageman, smoothie-maker, and food preparer (chopping and slicing fruits and veges and such). The first few days were stressful, but again I told myself "just give it a week, don't be a quitter", but each day got worse. Each shift consisted of standing over the sink for a consecutive 7 hours, at the end of which I was usually still backed up. What's worse is that I could see everyone else in the kitchen taking lunch and cigarette breaks while I had none. Finally, being a naturally nervous and clumsy person, I had difficulty working in a tiny kitchen with way too many people bouncing around it all day. I only broke one glass vase (~$70) but was close on several more occasions. At the end of the week I knew I couldn't handle going in there nearly every day for the next few months and I explaind the situation to my manager, who was extremely understanding (a common theme in New Zealand I've discovered) and allowed me to leave.
My third "job" was the dishwashing job in the bar owned by my hostel, which is the work I did in exchange for accomodation. This is probably the best job I've ever had, and was almost certainly the best work-for-accomodation position in all of New Zealand. On each shift I would receive a free meal, and if nobody happened to be eating at the bar that evening then I had nothing to clean and would spend my shift talking to the bar and kitchen staff and just taking it easy. Despite having to work on Christmas Day for the big Christmas dinner, which turned out to be a 6.5 hour unpaid stretch of nonstop food prep/serving/dishwashing, I was given a free helping of the delicious Xmas meal, plus a free jaegermeister midway thru the dishwashing, plus 3 free drink cards due to the generosity of the bar manager, who couldn't help but notice how hard I was working for nothing while the bar staff were at least getting paid for their work.
About the time I was deciding to quit the cafe job, I opened the semiweekly email from IEP, the organization who sponsored my work visa here and sends periodic updates about "hot jobs" in New Zealand. I normally disregard these emails, but this time a work-for-accom. position at a hostel in Paihia caught my eye. The major deterrant to seeking work elsewhere in the country was the fact that I'd probably have to pay for my accomodation, so if I could avoid that circumstance then I had little qualms about moving. Though that hostel position turned out to be for a female only (something they really should have mentioned in the ad), I had become struck with the idea of living in Paihia after doing some research and decided to email every other hostel in the town to see if they had similar positions available. Luckily I found one, and on Boxing Day I flew to Auckland and bussed up to Paihia, a small beach town in the northern tip of the North Island, also a popular destination on the Stray and Kiwi Experience bus tours but one that hadn't been included in my bus tour pass.
It was sad leaving Queenstown. I really liked my roomates and it was a fun town, plus I had a great work-for-accom. thing going. But I knew I was in a rut and had to find something new. So my last night in town (Xmas night) I headed down to the bar to celebrate. Aside from the three free drink cards I had obtained by working earlier in the day, and the 2 more I won in an interesting coed bar game, I spent about $40 on drinks. Not a bad night.
Stay tuned to hear all about Paihia, as well as my decision to pack up and leave yet again.
So last time we met I was starting work in Queenstown. After having little luck finding work I suddenly found myself with 3 jobs. I'll take these one at a time.
After my glassy trial at the Buffalo Club I was asked if I wanted to come back. I said I'd think about. I didn't immediately say yes because I thought I did a horrible job and I didn't enjoy it much. I didn't immediately say no because I have a weak-willed tendency to doubt myself and it's usually in my best interest to give decisions like that some sleep and further thought. I returned the next day to say I would accept the job, having decided I needed the money and that it would probably get better as I gained experience. They told me I was in fact scheduled for that night, which is weird. I returned that night to start work and was told by the manager that they weren't sure whether I was returning and had scheduled someone else for the shift. They promised to call me back to work out paperwork and a schedule. Days and weeks passed and they never called back, and neither did I because frankly I didn't care much for the job. I kept the t-shirt though. Suckers.
My other job was a kitchenhand at the Vudu Cafe. The trial went ok, and virtually everyone there was extremely friendly and helpful. However it became apparent that the trial was a bit misleading, as each day on the job I found myself with more and more duties such as garbageman, smoothie-maker, and food preparer (chopping and slicing fruits and veges and such). The first few days were stressful, but again I told myself "just give it a week, don't be a quitter", but each day got worse. Each shift consisted of standing over the sink for a consecutive 7 hours, at the end of which I was usually still backed up. What's worse is that I could see everyone else in the kitchen taking lunch and cigarette breaks while I had none. Finally, being a naturally nervous and clumsy person, I had difficulty working in a tiny kitchen with way too many people bouncing around it all day. I only broke one glass vase (~$70) but was close on several more occasions. At the end of the week I knew I couldn't handle going in there nearly every day for the next few months and I explaind the situation to my manager, who was extremely understanding (a common theme in New Zealand I've discovered) and allowed me to leave.
My third "job" was the dishwashing job in the bar owned by my hostel, which is the work I did in exchange for accomodation. This is probably the best job I've ever had, and was almost certainly the best work-for-accomodation position in all of New Zealand. On each shift I would receive a free meal, and if nobody happened to be eating at the bar that evening then I had nothing to clean and would spend my shift talking to the bar and kitchen staff and just taking it easy. Despite having to work on Christmas Day for the big Christmas dinner, which turned out to be a 6.5 hour unpaid stretch of nonstop food prep/serving/dishwashing, I was given a free helping of the delicious Xmas meal, plus a free jaegermeister midway thru the dishwashing, plus 3 free drink cards due to the generosity of the bar manager, who couldn't help but notice how hard I was working for nothing while the bar staff were at least getting paid for their work.
About the time I was deciding to quit the cafe job, I opened the semiweekly email from IEP, the organization who sponsored my work visa here and sends periodic updates about "hot jobs" in New Zealand. I normally disregard these emails, but this time a work-for-accom. position at a hostel in Paihia caught my eye. The major deterrant to seeking work elsewhere in the country was the fact that I'd probably have to pay for my accomodation, so if I could avoid that circumstance then I had little qualms about moving. Though that hostel position turned out to be for a female only (something they really should have mentioned in the ad), I had become struck with the idea of living in Paihia after doing some research and decided to email every other hostel in the town to see if they had similar positions available. Luckily I found one, and on Boxing Day I flew to Auckland and bussed up to Paihia, a small beach town in the northern tip of the North Island, also a popular destination on the Stray and Kiwi Experience bus tours but one that hadn't been included in my bus tour pass.
It was sad leaving Queenstown. I really liked my roomates and it was a fun town, plus I had a great work-for-accom. thing going. But I knew I was in a rut and had to find something new. So my last night in town (Xmas night) I headed down to the bar to celebrate. Aside from the three free drink cards I had obtained by working earlier in the day, and the 2 more I won in an interesting coed bar game, I spent about $40 on drinks. Not a bad night.
Stay tuned to hear all about Paihia, as well as my decision to pack up and leave yet again.
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