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.
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
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.
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