Days off

I've realized the necessity of seeing the horizon at least once every few weeks. I do manage to spend a lot of money every time I have days off. The American consumer in me is just itching to get rid of the colorful bills in my pocket or bank account. In just a few hours in TeAnau (a basic overpriced town)I managed to spend over a hundred dollars on shoes. It is justifiable though. As the cafe supervisor now I may as well abide by the dress code and black shoe policy.

Tara and I were dropped off at Gunn's camp on Tuesday night after our town excursion. Gunn's is located 10 Ks down a dirt road in the midst of a mountain valley. Bill and Helen operate the site, a combination of different size cabins each with woodstoves, campsites and campervan parking. This is quaint New Zealand defined. We drank wine and attempted chess in the candlelit cabin with the warmth of a woodstove to keep feeling in our toes. The next morning we drank tea and sat on the swings in the sunshine for hours while a strong breeze kept the sandflies at bay. We didn't have a car, so walked the 10Ks back to the road hoping for a friendly driver to pick us up. After only half an hour our kayaker friend Sam stopped to bring us home. My skin and brain was happy to have a huge dose of sunshine

Definition of a "Real Job"

I left Boston for many reasons, the main being that I had grown to despise my job. I loved the people. Hated not being able to make ends meet with the salary. Loved the salad bar and hour and a half lunches. Hated sales updates and fake clapping. Hated being told that we were "making a difference". Hated the numbers. Hated the conversions. Hated the end of every month. Loved having my two best freinds around the corner from me and emails telling me to meet them in the bathroom in three minutes.

To me, the job I left behind was a "real job". That ugly phrase I discovered in high school and saw looming ominously ahead of me, ugly and boring and dark. And now I am in New Zealand, working in a cafe, saving more money than I ever have, and as of Monday have been promoted to Supervisor.

Needless to say I am working longer hours and am quite challeneged by the job ahead of me, but I like it. It is not a "real job".

Off to work my friends... happy thanksgiving today! I am looking forward to a phone call from the relitives at meal time. Gobble.Gobble.

Culture, Shock!

I know I know, it has been quite some time since my last blog. Truth be told I am busy, and I am becoming increasingly annoyed by the internet option here. Apologies to all.

I am alive though. And well. A good combination of ways to be. I have been working hard, longer days and more of them (had 9 days on and three off rather than the 8 and four.) Our buffet service went in at the cafe and has surprisingly gone very well. When you think buffet you may be one of the many who thinks lunchroom cafeteria, and yes it is somewhat similar. But the food is goodand the service is so much easier. Hurrah! The tourists are coming in droves these days. It is somewhat chaotic but fun in the midst of the bugsprayed, overdressed swarms.

I was more than happy to take off from Milford during my days off. Not to say I am growing tired of the place, but a nice city diversion was necessary. Tara and I borrowed our friend's 1991 Ford Laser and drove the 5 hours to Dunedin. We treated ourselves to good food and drinks, christmas shopping and two (yes two!) movies. The Constant Gardener, beautifully shot and amazing landscapes and music... predictable ending but good acting overall if all a bit depressing and slow. The Common Thread, a french film about a girl who becomes pregnant and must quit her job at the supermarket to avoid the questions and is then hired by a seamstress to work on the most exquisite embroidery work and the find their common bond etc. etc. Lovely film with nice fabrics.

Yes, so I am craving a bit of culture. I don't exactly feel like a city girl in the country. I can fit in well here in our campground surroundings and do enjoy the serenity and oppressive granduer of the mountains surounding me, but I also think once you go city it is hard to go back. I met a woman from Jamaica Plain yesterday and I questioned her incessantly, lusting after Boston news, shared restaurants, the Red Sox.... talk of the Globe or Big Dig. I find I am missing the bustle and grime a bit. I am missing 24 hours and most of all I am missing anonymity. As a somewhat loner and happy observer of the world and people, I am finding it difficult to get that stimulation. In a community of 200 "locals" even if you are not known, you are known of. You cannot observe quietly the daily lives, and observing tourists is predictable and dull.

I must wrap this up, but wish you all the most happy thanksgiving! I will be thinking of my lovely ones on the other side of the earth. My wonderful mother sent me a wonderful package of thanksgiving and holiday reminders and so I will hold a small ritual of celebration in thanks for all of you and of my own good fortune. Eat well my friends!

The road to Oz...

In the loop: I am tentatively planning to head to Australia for perhaps a month or less. (while I am in the hemisphere... would be silly not to.) My main reason is the 17th annual Byron bay Blues and Roots festival. Last year's line up included big names like Jack Johnson, GLove, DMB, Soloman Burke, John Butler Trio etc as well as loads of others I haven't heard of.

Check it out.
http://www.bluesfest.com.au/

Cool as.

On Holiday...

My biggest source of anxiety in coming to Milford was the fear of getting bored. As many of you may know, I grow tired of places quickly. I am restless. A wanderer. I have the annoying habit of growing resentful of a place if I do not have constant stimulation. Milford has kept me busier though than Cambridge or university. Without the hum of television and the stresses of daily life, I still find more than enough to do to fill the hours.

I started my off days heading to Queenstown. Sweet Becca, my english friend, turned 24. We celebrated with a huge curry meal and several drinks at some swanky, some sweaty bars in town. On my second visit to Queenstown my impression has been fine tuned. It is a lovely city placed in a lovely setting but to me has little character and no soul. Though filled with chic boutiques, delicious ethnic restuarants and bungy friendly attractive young people, the town seems lost on itself, as any place devoted only to the tourist surely becomes. Regardless, city soul was not our mission, and we had a great time dancing and being silly.

On sunny saturday morning after a great bagel and avacado I managed to reach via the miracle of cellular signals my dearest Meg... finishing her work week and ready to go home. I had a smile plastered to my face for the remainder of the day after talking to her and my dear Matthew, Costa Rican partner ir crime. I do occasionally miss the stench of Cambridge, the history of the streets, the buzz of many languages and the ghosts of the people who have lived and worked, histories and lives layered on top of eachother creating a massive energy of life. I miss the homeless people that you begin to recognize.The barking man. The beer. (oh what I would pay for a number 9!)The middle eastern food and the colors, so many beautiful colors, of the people. Because I am so highly energized and stimulated here I have decided to work on a time transporting device that would enable me to move through timespace to get a hug from my people at home and then quickly return. I will keep you updated on my progress.

There is a fly the size of my thumbnail buzzing around my head. Highly irritating.

I finished the new Zadie Smith book, On Beauty. A lovely read, following the complicated intertwining lives of two families... monitoring their faults and character effortlessly... and taking place in a Boston suberb (named a fictional Wellington but I think maybe was Milton or Roslindale perhaps?). I now have that scary burp of anxiety that is not having another book lined up.

In the afternoon I went kayaking to the end of the Milford track, a place called Sandfly point and not because of the lack of sandflies. There we walked the last 3 miles of the track on a easy well maintained trail to a beautiful mountain waterfall. It was awesome to see the fiord cliffs from the point of view of a kayak... truly making you feel your small size.

For the evening we shuttled down the road to a place called "Little Tahiti", an open field, where there was a massive bonfire and party underway. Yesterday was the the 30th anniversary of the birth of beautiful Sina, a chef here and glowing spirit. It was a party complete with generator powered speakers and colored disco ball, several gallons of kerosene to light the firesticks and pois and enough dry wood to keep a circle of over 30 people warm.

Embracing the Sandfly...

Is not quite as easy as I thought it would be. After reading Marlow Morgan's book Mutant Message Down Under this summer, learning about the aboriginal practice of tolerance, acceptance and even gratefulness for all creatures beautiful and obnoxious, I had set upon this journey with a goal of the same. As an earth loving vegetarian I began my stay here with the practice of live and let live. With more vitamin B in my body than the normal carnivore, sandflies did not seem to stick to me like others. I didn't swat them, and so believed that they, in turn, would recognize my love for them and their recent ancestors, and thus spare me from their irritating poison. After over a month here, and covered in the scabs of a ten year old in summer, I have lost most of my desire to spare the little devils.

Anyway, hello! It has been a busy week, so sorry for the time between posting. I finished my days off last week with a quick trip to Dunedin, basically directly opposite of Milford on the east coast. After a sleepy 5.5 hour drive (beautiful sunset, lots of sheep) we arrived at On Top Backpackers (really swanky and nice) again staying for free. (yay!) Tara and Rich unfortunately were in the city on business, taking a responsible selling of alcohol course required in NZ. I on the other hand had a full 12 hours to explore this quaint college town. Lovely city, filled with clean streets, beautiful young people, cafes, art galleries and second hand stores. (Op Shops). I finished my book drinking latte's in the sunshine. I enjoyed my first bagel since being in NZ, chatted amicably with store owners and basically had a relaxing sunny day.

Work is picking up here. There are more and more busses every day, and more and more slightly frazzled, slightly perplexed tourists often sea sick and hungry, but mostly nice unless they have run out of petrol. Milford had two gas pumps. Only the Diesel works.

We had a lovely staff party on Sunday night, enjoying a sunset cruise into the Tasman, hoping to spot the humpback mom and baby found earlier in the day. No such luck, but witnessed an incredible sunset, this time illuminating a dense cloud cover to create magenta and gold streaks accross the sky. The party continued in the pub and ended with a fall into a great muddy hole in the attempt to get a better look at the glowworms on the embankment. Ha.

I am heading back to Queenstown to celebrate lovely Becca's 24th birthday on Friday! Looking forward to another quick bite of civilization and the opportunity to spend my hard earned money. In other news, I was promoted to the senior cafe position and so have the chance to get my hands a bit dirtier in the running of the operation. Good experience for me, I think, as my ultimate "some day" plan to own my own cafe slowly comes into focus.

Estoy aprendando espagnol. (I think that means "I am learning Spanish") And have sort of committed to an every other day study plan. I will be fluent in 2.5 months, according to my "learn Spanish in three months" book.

That is all for now. Stay in touch. Send me home addresses because I have loads of postcards but no addresses to send them to.

Cheers!