Sorry for that (not so) brief intermission, life here is rather hectic and time in which it makes sense to block off a few hours for the turning out of more adventures is limited. But here we go...
After meeting back in the lobby of the KIH, we headed down the street a block to a Uni Building which our Orientation leaders Jane, Kate, and their assistants Helen and Chandra (Denison grad of '06) had reserved for us for a little info sesh going over a couple basics about NZed in general and the orientation process. We learned quickly that their main goal in today's part of orientation was to keep us awake until at least 9pm in order to combat the jet lag. We had a quick rundown of the optional trips that the Arcadia programers (Jane and Helen) had organized for us over the course of the semester, how to use our program-specific website, and other not-so-enthralling info. After a series of ice-breaker, name-game type activities, we exited our conference room and continued our walk through Auckland passing through a series of parks where set-up was beginning for a lights festival that I think had something to do with the Chinese new year. In any case, it was really cool looking.
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| cool sculpture spotted in the one of the parks |
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| crazy tree (also in a park) |
On our walk I got talking to a couple people who I would be surgically attached at the hip to for the majority of the next three days: Southern Browning, Northern Leah (Browning is from Texas and is the archetype Southern Belle - blonde and charming, she's missing the accent though. Leah is from NYC and is, even by DC standards, a "northern girl"- brunette and witty, also missing the accent though), and Young Oliver (he's doing his abroad as a Sophomore rather than the more typical Junior year). Our next stop was in front of the entrance to a mall where we were told we could find a food, a bank to exchange funds, a cell phone shop and all that other jazz one typically finds in a mall. The four of us took care of some organizational business and then headed into the mall to take care of a growing problem in our stomachs. I hate food courts. I suffer from the perpetual problem of being presented with a vast number of options and being forced to make a potentially life-changing decision. Not only must one commit to a specific type of fare, one must then make a selection from the menu! At this particular food court there were a good 15 different options, and with a conservatively estimated 25 options on each menu, that presented me with no less than 375 options! One can sympathize with my predicament. Sushi, Kabobs, BBQ, and Mackers (McDonald's) were all present. Having, at last, made my decision, I returned to the table chose by the ladies to eat and participate in that oh-so-familiar semi-awkward conversation one encounters with new acquaintances. But friendships were soon forming and conversation was flowing easily. Post fooding we returned to the city streets for a tad of exploring before our next obligatory meeting where we were supposed to regroup with our new-found friends.
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| an Auckland street |
(Throughout the course of our orientation I began to feel much like one of those kids one sees on a child leash; occasionally sprinting away from the adult on the other end of the leash with a feeling of "freedom at last," only to be violently yanked back into forced companionship with one's elder. May it be clarified that this analogy casts an inappropriately negative connotation on the orientation process. I loved every minute of my child-leash time and when at last I was unhooked, I missed the familiarity of my harness.)
Once herded back onto our buses, we took off for Cheltenham Beach for a walk, swim, and views of the harbour. (Notice the U in harboUr... you English, psht.) We arrived at the beach to be greeted by even greyer skies than when we left the city. But, not to be put off, we disembarked from the buses and began our walk through a park, along the beach, and then up a hill. See pictures:
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| the park... (I verified the climbability of this tree. check.) |
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| the beach... and the hill at the end. (Auckland is off to the left of the picture) |
This hill, which apparently had been fortified during WWI (the Great War), as part of a New Zealand defense perimeter set up to protect Auckland in the event of an invasion by Russia, was home to a twisted labyrinth of bunkers and gun emplacements and tunnels. (Don't ask me what Russia would have hoped to gain by invading New Zealand, I'm pretty sure there are sheep in other parts of the world more easily accessible than NZed.) Chillin Matt (because he is just about the most relaxed person I've ever met) and I, upon discovering the unlocked entrance to one of the bunkers, headed off into unlit passageways and subterranean rooms. During the course of this little excursion I began to fully recognize a distinct contrast between the way things are done here in NZed, and the way things are in the US. Here in southland, if there's something thats dangerous, potentially harmful, or will straight kill you, Kiwi's are expected to be able to make a judgment for themselves. In America, we tell you 386 times to be careful, and then don't even allow you to do whatever that thing was that sounded really cool and is only dangerous for idiots. (Case and point, the Tidal Basin does NOT need a railing around it. People shouldn't be so stupid as to go in there, its disgusting. Bodies wash down from Anacostia... gross) Anyways, so having found our way out of the dark, we rejoined our group for the Otago Uni picture on top of the hill. Having summited our little hill most people chose to walk down. Big Tim (not only because he is a muscular bloke, but because BIG is the only way to describe his personality) and Dangerous Matt (this is the only name I will not claim credit for, earlier in the day he proclaimed to several of us, "I am probably the most dangerous person you will ever meet, but I'm not really athletic." Who knows...) chose to roll down the hill. Crazies. As our feet began to feel sand rather than grass, the clouds broke to reveal a crystalline blue sky. The day turned perfect. After a swim and apple and tree-climb, we got back on our motorcoaches and headed back to our not-so-Hilton-esque home for the night for a shower and freshening.
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| the rabbit hole/entrance to the bunker |
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| Chillin Matt exploring the tunnels. (light provided by my flash) |
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| just so excited about Auckland in the background. |
Now that my room was ready I collected my belongings from Football Jake and Hendrix Jamie (apparently he's a regular Jimi on the guitar) I found the staircase up to the third floor (not easily done, since the elevator only services floors G-2), found my door (also not easy since this required passing through two separate "smoke" doors, which, being from the over-protective US, I assumed the consequences of opening would include, but not be limited to, bells, whistles, flashing lights, yelling, slapping of wrists, gnashing of teeth, screaming women, and crying children), and opened it (equally difficult do to the fact that this required some mysterious rhythmic combination of turning the key back and forth, pushing the door, bobbing one's head, and jiggling the barely-attached door knob). Finally I entered my room for the evening. Returning to the lobby I met up with the homies and we rolled out to GPK Pizza for some surprisingly tasty 'za. Chilling Matt, Scruffy Ethan (to this day I haven't seen him without some level of scruff), and Kiwi Justin (while he is actually from Connecticut, he looked just like a guy on a poster in the mall in Auckland, which prompted someone to say that he looks like every guy in NZed... debatable), and I passed the meal commenting on how everyone that passed by the restaurant, and in fact just about everyone we had seen in Auckland was currently, about to, or just previously had been JOGGING. Regardless of what they were wearing, be it business attire or a full on velour tracksuit, the normal mode of ambulatory transportation was a jog. Having returned after another bus ride to the KIH, and with a belly full of pizza, Southern Browning, Northern Leah, Young Oliver, Sunny Sarah (the 5th of our inseparable posse. And "Sunny Sarah," for her untarnishable disposition), Chillin Matt, Scruffy Ethan, Kiwi Justin, Football Jake and I all headed out to a pub for a nightcap. Father Ted's was to be our venue of choice for the evening, and with more than pizza in our bellies we began to consider thinking about potentially maybe making moves for the door, but this oh-so-strong drive was quickly nipped in the bud by the proprietor of the fine Irish establishment persuading us to play a round of trivia. Despite being very confident in our answers and assuming that we Americans knew what was predominantly States trivia better than these antipodean drunkards, we didn't win the $100 bar tab prize. Not only did we not win... never mind, its embarrassing. We really thought we had won though. Or maybe it was just that we said "we're doing a 'choice' job" enough that we convinced ourselves. Anyways, we had fun. Returning to the KIH feeling good I "coma'd" on my bed immediately.
Friday the 16th began with an optional jog with our orientation leader Jane. Needless to say, Jono the Kid was not among those who chose to wake at the ungodly hour of 6:30 and join the ranks of Aucklanders by going for a jog. Breakfast was eaten. Buses were boarded. And next thing I knew, despite being told not to sleep on the bus, we were arriving at Matamata for lunch. Once a no-name dot on the map, Matamata has recently been host to a flock of tourists coming to see the Shire which was filmed just a hop skip and jump away. Lunch was delicious. NZed pies are phenomenal. As was the $1/piece sushi.
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| With Gollum/Smeagol in the foreground, Hobbiton/Matamata's main street |
Onwards and southwards. Before arriving in Rotorua (Ro-to-ru-a), we had a scheduled stop at the Agrodome farm show. Not exactly sure what to expect, we stepped off our buses and entered a building which was something between a large gift shop, a barn, an auction house, and an amphitheater. At the direction of Leader Jane, Chillin Matt, the North/South girls and I took seats right at the front - a decision that would pay off later. Soon, the stage in front of us was filling with 19 different varieties of sheep. Big sheep, little sheep, white sheep, brown sheep, and Little Bo Peep. (I just had a Dr. Seuss moment there) After cajoling the various sheep, who all had very clearly different temperaments, onto their given stage platform, our host-shorner proceeded to demonstrate his shearing abilities... very impressive. He then produced a cow and there was a call for volunteers. Naturally, I volunteered myself. I and three others were then invited up on stage to demonstrate our city-slicker cow-milking abilities. Little did our Shorner host know, Jono has spent time on a farm in his life (however, my childhood "skills" didn't really come out). The show proceeded with dogs running over the backs of the sheep, another dog herding ducks without barking, and some other farmy-type demonstrations after which the audience was allowed to go and satisfy our insatiable need for forced-smile peace-sign-including photos. Or wait, that peace-sign part was just the Asian part of the audience (everyone knows what I'm talking about here). Moving outside we were promised a sheepdog show. While there were three sheep and a dog, the dog didn't want to have much to do with the instructions the guy was calling out to him, and the sheep seemed to have a grand old time evading the dog and increasing the frustration of both dog and guy. Back to the buses.
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| showin' off my riding abilities |
[Jono note: again, I've been writing forever and my fingers are getting tired. The next part of the journey requires a refreshed writer. So I shall end this entry.]
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