Scenes from "home"...

Our apartment is on the southeast corner of the building, and the outer walls have many windows, affording sights that have quickly come to be images of “home” for us here.

The east windows overlook Victoria Road and another apartment building – not too exciting. To the south east, you see one of the main roundabouts in the Mount, always good for some excitement. It includes two zebra crossings which adds additional drama. Maunganui Road is the main street through town, and the majority of cafes and boutiques sit two blocks from our roundabout. It is a busy area, but the roundabout moves fairly efficiently.

Just beyond the roundabout is Sunny's Variety Shop. As you might imagine someplace named Sunny's would be, it is painted a brilliant yellow. If you've spend much time in Paul's Discount in Iowa City, you'd be reminded of home. Upon entering, you'd notice how vast and incomprehensible their selection of goods is. There are somewhat out-dated posters, fish bait and tackle boxes, an array of personal grooming items, Asian food, lawn fertilizer... The list goes on (and on).

Opposite from Sunny's is, sadly, a Burger King. We've not visited it yet and sincerly hope not to - it's not the cheeriest reminder of the US.

To the south of our apartment, along Salisbury Road, are a number of sights. Coronation Park is a green space in a city block that abuts the Mount Maunganui Bowling Club grounds (complete with bowling club flag). The park is a small but quaint (there’s really no other appropriate word; maybe “twee”) with a man-made waterfall, small curving walkways, and grassy areas. Some weekends a few artists (though perhaps that is too strong a label) set out their paintings on the corner by the roundabout. I’m not sure they are ringing up too many sales, but it seems to make for good socializing.

The Bowling Club offers hours of visual delight. Lawn bowling appears to be somewhat like bocce, but on a level, well-kept grass playing surface. They roll balls that have been weighted so as to be off-balance towards a target ball. See Wikipedia for more details if you so desire; I’ve read about it, but I think I’ll need to play sometime to get the hang of it. While it is open to the general public, the club members are my favorite. On competition day, they wear all-white, with opponents wearing a color (perhaps in a vest or hat) that represents their home club. It appears to be mostly older men, but my vision isn’t that great, so don’t quote me.

Just down from the Bowling Club, in case things get a bit rowdy, is the New Zealand Police. Because NZ is so small, they don’t have regional or local police, simply a national policing unit. I went to get fingerprints taken for my teaching license (I had to send them off to the FBI); they seemed a very friendly group. Occasionally, you’ll hear the sirens and see them speeding towards the traffic round – that is always fun to watch them navigate that, especially in traffic!

Following along the road, and viewed to the southwest of our apartment, is the Port of Tauranga and the Salisbury Wharf. The Port stretches south along the peninsula until it reaches Tauranga. Huge ships, stacked high with giant containers, sail out of the port. The majority of their exports go to Asia and include forest products and agricultural products. (For more fascinating facts, you can check out the Port’s website.)

The wharf is where the ferry between Tauranga and the Mount operates in the summer. It is also a popular place from which to fish, though after long observation, there didn’t appear to be much action. Then again, I’m not much of a fisher, and I’m not known for my patience, so maybe I just didn’t wait long enough.

If you face your chair on the balcony in that direction, you can glimpse Pilot's Bay. I imagine it is as close as we'll ever get to living on the ocean, so we'll call that "glimpse" our "view"!

We've got our own hot tub!

Monday, September 22nd – Monday, September 29th

This weekend’s trip took us to the west coast area known as the Waikato region. We’re trying to do some short trips on the weekends and plan our longer trips for some vacation time. So I spent Friday poring over guide books mapping out possible stops as we headed cross-country.

Cory’s colleagues have been great at giving suggestions and offering opinions on “places to see.” Many of them have lived in several locations around the country during medical school and residency training. They also seem to be a pretty active group – kayakers, skiers, riders, hunters – so they can offer advice on activities, too.

My colleagues seem to have traveled less extensively. Several have noted they’ve not been to places I’ve mentioned or not ever been to the South Island, which is, even by New Zealanders, known for its beauty. I’m not sure why this difference is present – if it is a different financial lifestyle or the lack of travel required by training or what.

But Cory’s well-traveled colleagues had some specific opinions when Cory told them I was planning a trip to Hamilton for our weekend. Now, what I meant by “Hamilton” was Hamilton proper and the geographic area around Hamilton. I’m still not good enough at my NZ geography to identify areas by their regional terms (ie, Waikato). For the most part, I need a larger city that I can locate on a map to know where we are referring. However, Cory’s co-workers took me at my word and, as one, bashed Hamilton.

Hamilton is about the same size as Tauranga and I sense, perhaps, a small mite of competitiveness between Taurangians and Hamiltonians. (I just made those labels up; no one else actually says that, by the way.) Otherwise, I can’t figure out why they would slam Hamilton. The Waikato river runs through it, with attractive walkways alongside the banks. There was a large city garden, with several themed gardens. The museum was great, with an excellent exhibit on the local Maori culture, completed with a refurbished waka (war canoe) that was used extensively in the area. So, I’m not sure what is so terrible about Hamilton.

But let’s back up… Cory and I took off Saturday morning after he rounded. He rounds in jeans here, which continues to boggle his mind. So he didn’t have to change when he got home; we just hopped in the car. The car, by the way, has been doing really well for us. There is a small “poing”-ing noise sometimes and I have to reattach part of the armrest cover frequently, but, now with an upgrade to a full-size spare in the trunk, Cory feels comfortable, and I am just happy it runs.

We headed west through the low-lying Kaimai mountain range. As we entered the region, Cory had a lightbulb moment… When the guys at worked referred to the Car-my-z, they were talking about the Kaimais (kai-my-z). The accent still gets us sometimes!

Continuing west, we entered Cambridge. The farmers market was in full-swing and the local arts festival was set up in the town hall. We hit both, after cruising through a local art and gift shop. (My new guideline: If, on the sign it says “gifs”, it is probably mostly souvenirs and we should skip it. I’m not sure this will actually work, but I’m hoping it will at least narrow our field.)

We drove on to Hamilton as the rain settled in. I’d hoped to go to the afore-mentioned parks and walk along the river, but we limited ourselves to a visit to the museum and a gallery.

Raglan was next on our list and where we planned to spend the night. Raglan is a small town on the coast and is known for its beaches and bays, where there is great surfing. If you’ve seen Endless Summer, some of it was shot at nearby Manu Bay (featured in Cory’s pics).

As we passed two antique cars on our way into town, Cory jokingly said, “I hope it’s not Raglan’s Oyster Fest weekend or something,” recalling our short trip through Whitianga during it’s fest. We pulled in to a hotel and found they were booked. At the second hotel, we got the same info. Remember, there are about 3 choices in Raglan in terms of accommodations, so we were now down to our last option. Why do we always do this? So we headed to the Harbor View Hotel and luckily got their last room. We had a bunk bed, a sink, and a small cupboard, in a room about half the size of my college dorm room. The rooms at the Harbor View are not en suite, which I’m not sure exists in the US. It didn’t really matter, as we didn’t anticipate spending much time there and were grateful not to have to drive back to Hamilton.

We wandered the town, dining at Vinnie’s, but leaving just before DJ Antonio started up. (Bummer.) The next morning, after adjusting our watches for Daylight Savings Time (were off Iowa time by 18 hours now), we had breakfast at the café across the street and then headed off. We’d planned to take some back roads down to Kawhia; the trip was scenic, according to the guide book, but on unsealed roads.

Living in Iowa, both Cory and I have done a reasonable amount of driving on unsealed roads, a.k.a. gravel. But, of course, these roads were a little different…single lane, often along the edge of steep hillside, sharply curving, with ruts and potholes to dodge. (Remember that “poing”ing noise the car makes?) An additional delight are the single-lane bridges; conveniently a sign indicates which direction is to yield.

We took a break after about an hour in to check out Bridal Veil Falls. They fall 55 meters and were pretty awesome. After stretching our legs, we headed on to Kawhia, where we grabbed lunch and then went in search of Ocean Beach. Ocean Beach is a blank sand beach with natural hot springs under the sections of the beach. During low tide, if you dig in the right spot, you can make yourself a little hot tub. It was pretty unbelievable. Our first attempt yielded nothing, but we moved on and found a better spot. The sand is actually warmer in these areas, which is a good indicator. You don’t have to dig far before the water is almost too hot. Several other folks were doing the same thing, and the smart ones had a shovel. Cory and I dug by hand (with him doing most of the digging, really; once I had a warm spot, I was satisfied) and made a pool that was probably 10 inches deep in the middle. Past that and the water burned your hands!

After lounging for a while, we mournfully gave up our hot tub and headed back to the car. Before we had even made the climb up the large dune, though, our little hole had been claimed by another family.

We headed back east towards home. The drive seemed much shorter and more relaxing as we finally found some straight, sealed roads and made our way to the Mount. It’s good to have a place to call home.

Ahh, the thrill of the ride...

Wednesday, September 17th – Sunday, September 21st

So we went mountain biking today. We drove down to an area just outside Rotorua, a redwood forest that is part of a logging company. Year ago, the logging company collected trees from around the world and planted them in this area, essentially creating a test plot for possible re-growth plantings. Now, there are a large network of trails throughout the redwood forest that are maintained as mountain bike trails. The trails are graded from level 2 – level 5. There are, disappointingly for me, no level 1 tracks. There was a “kids loop” which sounded more like my speed, but Cory said I couldn’t go.

Now, I should probably review my biking history for you so that you can better understand how events occurred… My first bike without training wheels, to my memory, was a lavender banana-seated kids bike. It was a single gear traditional bike; you braked by pushing backwards on the pedals. Now, the neighborhood we lived in didn’t have sidewalks, but there were some rules about how far from the curb we could stray, and kids followed these rules. There were also rules about safety equipment – no sandals on the bike. Helmets weren’t really part of the gear back then and it appears my brain survived unscathed. On this bike, while showing off for my cousin Lynette, I once ran into a parked car. (Clearly, folks, this is foreshadowing.)

In middle school, my parents bought me another bike, which became a mode of transportation to/from work at the Y and the country club. This bike, however, was quite an upgrade, as it had gears and I could pedal backwards, as I had hand brakes.

Now in college, a boyfriend bought me a Huffy from Wal-Mart. (He didn’t last, obviously.) I stored it outside our summer apartment, which meant that the gears quickly rusted and the bike became a single gear. I rode that Huffy to and from work in the summers, until it was stolen. Really, who steals a Huffy?

Cindy loaned me a road bike a year or two ago, and I’d ridden it a little, but as I’ve aged, I’ve gotten a little more hesitant about bikes and road safety. And, really, all those parked cars seemed dangerous…

So this new bike is my first that I’ve ridden in quite a while. In addition to having gears that actually do shift, the handbrakes are reversed from other bikes I’ve ridden. My balance and steering are also a little shaky, I should point out.

As you can see, all of this screams “YOU CAN’T MOUNTAIN BIKE!” I know. I know. But I have a pretty big ego and, perhaps, an over-inflated competitive spirit. And, hey, who doesn’t like a challenge?

So we pulled into the car park at the head of the trail system. There were a lot of cars and a lot of bikers, ranging from 4 year-old to senior citizen and from clear novice (me) to apparent expert. The 4 year-olds and the senior citizens buoyed my spirits. I dismissed the apparent experts by telling myself we’d be sticking to the grade 2 trails, while they defied death on the grade 4-5 trails.
Our plan was to ride three grade 2 trails; it sounded simple enough and the trails were pretty well-marked to help discriminate between the different grades. The first trail went well enough – I found I loved pumping up hills. I concentrated on practicing shifting gears and focused on braking with the rear (reversed hands, remember). From ahead, Cory would call out little things to look out for on the trail – a rutted out muddy patch; a bermed corner; whoops (a series of small up and downs); tree roots or rocks that made for rough going. Sure, there were some eye-boggling moments, but that was to be expected.

Then, shortly after we turned onto our second trail, disaster struck. Okay, family members, don’t panic, it wasn’t really disaster. I was heading down a short, steep hill and caught my front tire on a partially buried log. I tumbled off the bike, over the handle bars. I wasn’t really injured, but was a little shook up. I assured Cory I was okay, which took some doing, and hopped back on my bike. We started back on the trail, and for awhile I was fine. But then we came to another hill. I headed down, and made it safely, but found myself holding my breath. After that, any little downhill situation got my heart pounding and had me nearly hyperventilating.

Back at the car, bikes safely on the rack, Cory checked over my bruises. I think I’ll have a couple of good ones; the best being a handle bar-shaped bruise on my thigh and a strawberry/bruise combo on my hip. My ego, though, may be permanently damaged.

But I’ll be back for more – don’t you worry. I may just stick to the kids’ loop next time, though.

Hiking to the Pinnacle

We left for our big hike about 12:30 on Saturday. Cory has done some hiking, or “tramping”, as they say in NZ, but I’ve never done anything other than a walk in the woods, certainly nothing that required me carrying a pack. And, really, carrying the weight of my body is just about enough these days.

We’d been to the Coromandel Penninsula just a few weeks ago; it is a very beautiful area. One of Cory’s co-workers recommended this tramp through Kaueranga, which is a regenerating kauri forest. Apparently, kauris are the second largest tree, and had been heavily forested up until about 1920, when they’d pretty much taken what they could. But the area was still very wooded, with several small streams throughout the area, as well as many cliffs and peaks. The Kaueranga is also in the Coromandel Mountain Range, one peak of which is the Pinnacles. The Pinnacles was our destination; we hoped to hike to the hut that is just below the Pinnacles, stay the night, hike the Pinnacles Sunday morning, and then hike down before heading home. All total, we were looking at about 9 hours of hiking, my first trip of that length and my first trip with a pack. Of course, I hadn’t really done the math in my head or that probably would’ve scared me off. I’ve a weak mind, what can I say?

The first afternoon’s hike was okay; quite a bit of uphill, which I guess was to be expected. As many of the areas we hiked through had once been part of the forestry operation, there were sign posted points of interest. Also, and quite conveniently, along the tramp were stone steps that had been created for the horses carrying supplies to trek up. So that made much of our upward climb easier. I think it was easier at least. There were some pretty steep steps, and no shortage of them. I kept telling myself that if a horse could do this, so could I. I’m not sure it’s a favorable comparison, but, well, whatever works…

We made it up to the hut that evening, just before nightfall. The hut was surprisingly large, built to bunk 80 people. While it wasn’t full, there were about 45 other people up there all ready; 21 one of them were 14-year-old girls. Take that in for just a moment. These 21 girls had come up with 4 adults (yeah, take that in) as part of a school program. They really did pretty well, considering they were 21 14-year-old girls.
We used the gas grill to cook hamburgers and veggies that night, and then warmed s’mores (I will only go on campouts that involve s’mores). With no open flame, I had to do some improvising, but it worked. You really can’t mess up chocolate. After a somewhat chilly night’s sleep, we awoke early to climb the Pinnacles.

The climb up was pretty rugged, but with some serious clambering over rocks and the help of some rungs drilled into the rock face, we made it to the top. (Again, I told myself that if a 14-year old girl could do it, so could I. Also, not necessarily a favorable comparison, but shame seems to help motivate me.)

After we came down from the peak, we hoisted our packs onto our backs and headed down. Now I know that uphill should be harder, but the downhill was pretty grueling at times. We took a somewhat different, and longer, trail down, which I sort of thought would offer a less vigorous downhill. I’m not sure it did, but the scenery was worth it – I think. Cory’s posted several pictures to help illustrate, as you know that words fail me here.

Anyway, we made it down. I’ve never been so glad to have a long car ride ahead of us; the bliss of sitting for an extended period was wonderful. And other than some sore calves and perhaps a bruise on my collarbone from the weight of the pack, we seem to have recuperated well. We’re even bravely talking about a mountain bike trail ride this weekend. Wish me luck!

Be alert...

I’ve been driving, biking, bus-riding, and walking all over the Tauranga area for several weeks now and I keep thinking I will get the hang of things soon. Some of my struggles are related to the fact that I’m not from New Zealand, while others stem from my small town lifestyle. There may also be a few struggles related to the fact that I may not be very bright, but I’ll let you decide for yourself. (No need to comment on that, by the way…)

Here’s one I attribute mainly to the fact that I’m not from New Zealand, though maybe it has something to do with my small town background… I struggle with zebra crossings. For those of you unfamiliar with this term, these are simply crosswalks (indicated by the traditional white markings on the black asphalt and by poles painted in white and black stripes, hence the name). At these crossings, vehicles yield to pedestrians. “How tough can that be? She only has to cross the street,” you say. Right. Well, I keep forgetting that the cars are definitely (theoretically) going to stop. So I wait on the sidewalk, as opposed to simply looking and crossing, thus forcing the driver not only to slow down and yield to me, but to come to a complete stop and, often, wave me across, so that they can continue on their way. Surprisingly, not one driver has done more than look slightly exasperated.

Another little struggle of mine involves crossing a busy street near the school where I volunteer. To get to Kaka Street School, I ride a bus from the Mount and get off at Cameron Street, right by the hospital Cory works at, actually. I then walk maybe 8 blocks to school. However, I have to cross Fraser Street, which is a pretty busy road. The intersection I cross at is also pretty highly trafficked and sits atop a hill, so visibility from one direction is pretty poor. There is no magical zebra crossing here, nor is there a stoplight to provide some definite break in movement. (Please remember, I’m from a smallish town.) I am fine at judging traffic crossing in front of me, but I keep forgetting what lane the turning traffic is turning in to – I forget about that whole driving in the left lane thing! This has actually led to a few close calls. But, I’ve got a new plan now…If I time things just right, I can arrive at the intersection with a few students from the nearly intermediate school - then I just cross when they do! They are very good guides.

I’ll relate just one other little struggle, lest I lead you to believe I’m a hazard to myself and society with my ineptness… Today I was biking back from getting groceries and stopped to cross the street at a stoplight. (I have to get off to do this; I can’t bounce around and balance while waiting.) When you are at a crossing with a stoplight, you push a button on the light pole to tell the system there is someone there waiting to cross – and, yes, I’ve done this before. Here, though, there is also a cool little “blip, blip, blip” sound that indicates you are to wait. When it is time to cross, the sound changes to indicate so. Fascinating. It works well, especially in those times when you can’t see the little indicator light-up person. So today, I approached and the “blip, blip, blip” sound was all ready going. I think it is set so that you don’t even have to push the button at some busy intersections. So I waited for the sound to change. And I waited. I do pay attention to the flow of traffic, and, after awhile, I was thinking that there had probably been several opportunities for me to cross that I had missed while listening for my magic sound. But then, you know, there is that whole turning traffic thing that befuddles me so and this was a busy intersection. So I waited. I wondered if maybe I should just push the button anyway, even though it was “blipping” and leaned over to look at the pole. Well, fancy that, there was a sign that said to stand on the yellow spot, which activates the crossing signal. That was certainly the missing element; I was able, after only a slight wait, to cross the street. Seriously, I could’ve been there for days.

Which leads me to a quick plea… Cory and I are planning an overnight camping trip this weekend. The plan is to hike to the Pinnacles outside Thames, stay over night in a “hut” and then hike back down. Should I not post on the blog by, say, late Monday, please contact someone. Anyone. I’ll probably be dead from exhaustion next to a trail or waiting patiently by a street crossing, hoping the light will change.

Cory breaks his silence...

Cory here… Just thought it was time to break the silence and make a contribution to the literary portion of this blog. Don’t expect anything earth shattering. I will begin, however, with a bit of advice: don’t collect things that previously housed a live animal. From the time I was a child I have loved shells, in fact, I have a large box of shells that I have been toting around for the last ten years as I have moved from place to place. Living on a peninsula makes the temptation to pick up shells from the beach too hard to resist. As Erin and I were strolling along the beach the other night to get an ice cream con,e I ran across 3 small conch shells – fine specimens. I washed them out in the ocean water, carried them until they were dry, and then stuffed them into my pocket. As we approached the ice cream shop I realized that my hands and person reeked of dead mollusk. The doctor in me got the best of me so I jogged down the street to a public restroom and washed up prior to grabbing a cone. Despite the smell, I kept the shells figuring a good soak overnight would do the trick. Several days of soaking and soaping, as well as a dishwasher cycle managed to decrease the odor of the shells to a mild stench. Have I learned my lesson? I’m not sure, but I will definitely think twice before picking up my next shell.

While some things we can avoid, other things we cannot. Today was a prime example. I was scheduled to do a total hip with one of the consultants (staff doctors) today. I really had little information on the patient other than her name and a few brief clinic notes. (Their electronic medical record is not quite the same as back home.) As the patient walked down the hall I realized it was going to be a long day. She walked with her arms folded, resting on what appeared to be an armrest on either side but later turned out to be her rear end. Needless to say the operation was a bit of a struggle. I could hear Dr. Callaghan in the back of my mind and was reminded of the “good times” back at Iowa. To make matters worse, I still tend to call out for surgical instruments with names that are entirely foreign to the nursing staff here. While it must be amusing to them to hear me say “Army/Navy” or “Hemostat”, the blank stares that I receive in return do not make for an efficient OR experience. In addition, many of the instruments that we normally use don’t exist, at least, not at this hospital. Today when I was up to my elbows in adipose and I asked for an anterior acetabular retractor, I received a straight homan; it was kind of like shoveling your driveway with a spoon. Nevertheless, we made it through the operation just fine and the patient has a nice new ceramic on ceramic hip (that’s right – no worries about the squeak, mate).

Overall, things are going well. My coworkers here are great. The orthopaedic residents are top notch. They have a breadth of experience and really know their stuff. They are always in a good mood, never sleep in conference, lack dark circles around their eyes, look at you funny if you show up to work before 7 AM, and take time to enjoy themselves. This seems to stem from the fact that things here move at a different pace. Being part of this system has allowed my to do some things that I haven’t done in some time such as sleep 8 hours, eat sensibly, work out on a regular basis, and bike to work. The last one has been more of a challenge than I originally thought. Initially 10 kilometers seemed like just a short jaunt, but as I have discovered over the last two weeks, I am really out of shape. Regardless, I am continuing to bike but have scaled back my goals from 3 days a week from the original seven. One of my colleagues likes to tell me a story about a friend of his who rode a brand new bike to work, didn’t bother biking home that night, and left it in the office for the remainder of the year (thanks, Allen, for those inspirational words).
Finally, we purchased some tomato plants for our balcony in hopes of having some fresh ones this summer. I am convinced that no home is complete without a garden. While this garden won’t be the 10x20 spread we had in Coralville, it will probably get us by. The tomatoes should be bearing in about 80 days so for those of you making the trip, we should have some fresh tomatoes for you when you arrive. Hope everyone is enjoying the blog, thanks for your comments and make sure you add yourself to the fans of christiansensinnz!

Monday, Sept 1st – Sunday, September 7th

In addition to my two days at Kaka Street Special School this week, I spent this Tuesday traveling with their itinerant special ed teacher. She serves students out in the regular ed schools. She currently has three students, all at Tahatai Coast School. Tahatai Coast is a year 1 – year 8 school and is located just south of Mount Maunganui in Papamoa. Papamoa is another “suburb” of Tauranga, and like many other small towns in the area, has melded into the city, it’s boundaries indistinguishable.

It was an interesting day, observing the three students, their numerous aides, and their regular ed teachers and classmates. I haven’t spent much time around younger kids recently and continue to be amazed by them. Adding to my awe was the 10:00 assembly where the recently crowned “Best Kiwi Boy Band” performed. If somehow you haven’t heard of them, they are a group of students of Tahatai Coast School who won NZ Nickelodeon’s Best Kiwi Boy Band Challenge, performing a song they had written themselves. On Thursday they were going to Auckland to record it and film a music video. The young men displayed quite a bit of stage presence, which can be tough when you are barely three inches taller than your electric guitars.

In addition to collecting Kiwi boy band hits, Cory and I have been sampling other local music. He’s been picking the brains of co-workers and I’ve been reading newspaper reviews and scouring the library. We also bought a compilation of local bands that had some good songs. We’ll keep you posted, but so far we’ve become fans of the Black Seeds and Evermore.

We have not, as so many Kiwis apparently have, become fans of Phil Collins. I was surprised to find that the music we listen to on the radio in Iowa sounds a lot like the music we listen to on the radio in New Zealand. There is however, on many stations, a scattering from across several decades, as opposed to a “Top 40s” station. Which means we get to hear a lot of older favorites that wouldn’t get much radio play in the US, unless on a themed station (ie, hits from the 80s, etc). It also means you get to hear some older not-so-favorites. While Phil Collins has his place in music history (you are singing Pseu-Pseu-Pseudeo to yourself right now), it is a small place. However, apparently in New Zealand, the guy is big time. Frightening.

Kylie Minogue has also apparently deigned to cross “the ditch” for the first time ever and folks here are thrilled. I was appalled she’d not been able to make it here before, being from Australia, but no one else is as vindictive as I. That or they are just blinded by their Kylie-lust, which has clearly not affected me...yet.

Friday, August 29th – Sunday, August 31st

You knew the weekend was going to be good with such an auspicious start - Cory got off at 4:30 on Friday! I picked him up and we headed home for a steak dinner. After dinner, we walked down to the Mount Hot Pools. These are a collection of large and small pools at the base of the mountain that are filled with heated, salt water. It was cool outside, but the warm water was enough to take the chill off.

We got up early on Saturday and decided to drive to the Coromandel Peninsula. We had to run some errands first but got off at a good hour. The peninsula is just north of Tauranga and seems less populated than the Bay of Plenty area. State Highway 25 runs the perimeter of the peninsula, with very few roads cutting across the width. The drive was beautiful, with the Firth of Thames along the west and the Coromandel Forest along the east. We stopped in Thames, at the base of the peninsula at a small, tucked-away butterfly house. I’m a sucker for butterfly houses, especially those that seem like there can’t be enough tourists in the area to keep them alive.

After the Butterfly House, things got exciting. A few notes about the roads in New Zealand… There are not, as we know them, interstates. Maybe there is just too much great scenery to plow under, pave, and then blow by. Their state highways are not what you might think of as a state highway in the US either. They are paved roads; I think that is the only real requirement. Some are well-paved, wide-laned roads, with even a passing lane thrown in every now and then. These were not what we spent most of the weekend driving on. SH25 winds up the western coast of the peninsula, and then cuts across to begin down the eastern coast. This road was a constantly undulating path, winding through the forest, creeping on the ridge of hills, and crawling along the coast. There were more hairpin turns, one-lane bridges, and warnings for slips (aka mudslides) than you might imagine possible, certainly more than you would imagine safe for travel. But it was worth the trip.

We’d planned on staying overnight in Whitianga, a small beachfront town on the western coast. As we came to the edge of town, we saw people walking to an outlying hotel, which indicated it had no vacancies. Driving further in, we saw more walkers, appearing very jovial; they seemed to be heading to yet another hotel that also indicated “no vacancies.” This is not tourist season by any means in the wet winter of the Coromandel Peninsula; we were beginning to get a little concerned that we’d unknowingly stumbled onto something big. Stumbled turned out to be a fitting term, as the next group of apparent revelers were laughing and pointing at their mate who’d biffed it. As we got further and further into town, we spotted more and more clearly intoxicated folks wandering the streets. We didn’t know it at the time, but Whitianga was at full tilt, celebrating their annual Scallop Festival.

Realizing we were a few (cases of) beer behind most of the locals and other tourists, we decided to head to the next town, Hahei, which is where we hoped to join a sea kayak tour in the morning anyway. As we pulled into Hahei, I suggested we stop at the first place we saw with a vacancy sign. Luckily for us, it was the charming and simple Church. The Church itself is a restaurant, but behind it are several cottages and guest rooms; we gratefully took the last available and made reservations for dinner.

The Church Restaurant served up a great meal, in a beautiful setting. Shortly after our appetizer arrived, so did Steve and Jane. Steve and Jane had been at the Scallop Fest over in Whitianga, so you’ll get a pretty quick vibe for their state. Let’s just say that Steve had driven over from Whitianga, and for good reason. But that sounds censorious; simply understand that they were in good spirits and full of kind-heartedness. Jane struck up the conversation, asking what I’d ordered. From there on, we spent the evening chatting between our tables. They rattled off several recommended places to visit and, within 15 minutes of meeting us had written down their names, address, and phone for us. Granted, Jane had written it, and in her current state it was mostly illegible, but the thought was there and that was certainly enough. Cory even let me order dessert, making it a perfect night all around!

That next morning, we took advantage of the breakfast offered by the staff at the Church. There was a nice selection - orange or apple juice, coffee or tea, cereals, muesli, fruit, yogurt, toast, marmalade, jam, Vegemite…and Marmite. If you recall, in my last blog posting, I promised to do a taste test should I ever be confronted with both of these products. Well, Cory remembered, and there was no getting out of it. I bravely buttered a half-piece of toast and reviewed the offerings. Both Vegemite and Marmite are a deep, rich, brown color. Marmite is slightly more glossy with a somewhat less tacky consistency. Neither came off the spoon easily. I spread the Marmite first; as I did so, Cory chuckled knowingly. “You need to scrape about half that off,” he coached. But I couldn’t get any more off the toast; it had adhered firmly. I was even more conservative with the Vegemite than, barely touching the knife to the toast as I spread the goop. To be fair, the test was not scientific; I really should’ve measured out a set amount of each product to spread on the toast. The Marmite may have been sweeter, as rumored, but I couldn’t tell – it was so darn salty. If a food item could taste “brackish”, this would be it. The Vegemite was somewhat better, mostly due to its application, I think, but “somewhat better” is a far cry from “good.” I’m sorry Angela, my Australian-raised friend, I’m not sure I can learn to love it.

Luckily the day improved. Our sea kayaking plans had to be cancelled due to wet and windy weather, but as you’ve seen from our other pictures, rain and wind haven’t stopped us yet. We decided instead to hike to Cathedral Cove.

I don’t like doing things that I think I’m not going to be good at, so I won’t attempt to describe our hike and the views from the beach at Cathedral Cove. Cory’s pictures will have to do what they can. (I do realize they are 2-3 centimeters, but bear with us.) Suffice it to say that it was amazing and beautiful and awesome.

Tuesday, August 26th – Thursday, August 28

I’m sure you are disappointed that the Olympics are over, but you are probably even more disappointed that McDonald’s Olympic Meal Deals are also over. The Meal Deals embraced three local cultures and were, fairly indirectly, tied to the Olympics. You could choose between a Kiwi Burger, an Aussie Burger, or a McAsia Wrap. These delightful options highlighted a local McDonald’s “favorite” from each of these three nations. The Kiwi Burger is topped with egg and beet root (their way of saying beet); the Aussie burger is topped with pineapple, bacon, and bbq sauce; and the McAsia Wrap combines chicken tenders with chili sauce. Check it out - you can’t make this stuff up! www.mcdonalds.co.nz/olympics/

I’m a little surprised and somewhat disappointed that the creators of neither the Kiwi nor Aussie Burger managed to incorporate marmite or vegemite. For the unfamiliar, these are two different, local food-like items. Vegemite stems from Australia, whereas Marmite is a New Zealand reconstruction of the British Marmite. Rumor has it that NZ Marmite is somewhat sweeter than Vegemite; should I encounter them both in one sitting, I will sacrifice for the good of all and do a taste test to verify this. (Please, never let that happen.) Both are created from the remains of yeast from beer brewing and are presented as a brown, sticky paste that is usually spread on bread or toast. The thickness of such application is a matter of personal taste. We’ve been warned that initiates should apply with caution; however, you’ll see true fans slathering it on. Cory has tried Vegemite and was not impressed, though he is known to be a somewhat picky eater – no coconut, no nuts, no olives – so take his opinion with some caution. The kiddos at school often have Marmite sandwiches for morning tea. I can attest that it is extremely sticky and almost impossible to remove from clothing once little fingers have wiped it there. After attempted cleaning, it leaves an obvious brown gummy smudge on said clothing. (To be fair, as several of my former students and staff could tell you, I am a terribly messy “feeder” of others, and my clothes often have smudges on them, though not usually from Marmite.)

An interesting offshoot…you can visit the Vegemite webpage and read the poem of the week about Vegemite. You can also view the Vegemite timeline and learn of the heritage of Vegemite. You can play fun Vegemite games in the Kid’s Corner, and you can also locate a range of recipes that use Vegemite. Bookmark it now! Marmite’s NZ page also offers useful tips and fun Marmite facts, in addition to artwork made with Marmite and toast.

Thursday 21st – Monday 25th

I’m enjoying my free time over here more than I should; at some point, I will need to return to the working world. Before we left, whenever someone asked what I was going to do and I couldn’t answer, they would kindly say, “Oh, just enjoy yourself!” I imagine everyone who said that was thinking, however, “What a lazy bum. And how spoiled!” I’ve gotten a similar response here in NZ whenever someone asks what it is I do. In the first few weeks, I could at least say, “Oh, we’ve just arrived and are getting settled!” But now, as we are approaching a month, my response is starting to sound weak. And volunteering two days a week does still leave three week days of unemployment. I have found plenty to keep me busy somehow, but I do realize that it is sort of unacceptable to be a “woman of leisure” – you can be a stay-at-home mom, but people don’t relate well to “stay-at-home wives”.

However, let me walk you through one of my very busy days…okay, it isn’t very busy at all, but I’ll take you through it anyway. On Fridays, there is a running club that meets at 9:15 just a few blocks from our apartment; I’d mentioned to Cory on Thursday night that I was thinking about joining the group that next morning. Kindly, Cory pointed out that I don’t actually run anymore. My rationale was that any group that can meet to run at 9:15 on a weekday probably included a lot of retirees and that I could probably keep up with retirees. But I heeded Cory’s gentle warning and chose instead to run a route on my own. Cory was probably right – I made it about 3k – along the beach and the bay. And even had I been 80 years old and retired, my pace was probably slow. So maybe being able to run with the retirees will be a goal for the future.
After such a strenuous morning, I treated myself to lunch. I ordered the fish sandwich at Two Small Fish. I’m pretty sure the owner was the waiter and the chef. Please do not picture a square, breaded, minced fish fillet with tartar sauce on a white bun. Instead, try to taste a fresh, seasoned Dory fillet, on a bed of local rocket (a type of green), displayed on a wholegrain loaf with a parmesan spread, sided by roasted tomatoes. Not bad, not bad.

There was still much to be done that afternoon. When you go for dinner to the home of someone you know well, you assume that you will be able to reciprocate. (As I write that, I realize that we have several friends back in Iowa that are probably rolling their eyes as they read this. Tina and Nate, Jessica and Matt, some day I will cook for you. It just won’t be nearly as good as when you cook for us.) Here, we don’t yet have that reassurance of reciprocation (hey, what if I don’t like these people!?), so you feel a little more guilty throwing yourself on their hospitality. So, other than the requisite bottle of wine, I’ve tried my hand at making afghans. I don’t think New Zealanders realize that afghans are unfamiliar to us Americans. If they did, I assume they would be constantly bragging about how they have a fantastic treat that we do not have. I had one from a bakery and quickly realized I was going to have to learn to make them myself, as I would be unable to afford the habit I have now developed. So I found a recipe and have made two batches. Both batches have gone to couples who have had us over for dinner; if I didn’t take them to our dinner hosts, I would eat them all in a matter of days (or hours). They are a chocolate cookie with crushed corn flakes in the dough, making them pleasantly crunchy and not too sweet, which is good, as you top them with a dollop of chocolate icing. I’m salivating just thinking about them now... So I had to whip these up, which is no quick feat, especially as the recipe is not in cups and teaspoons, but grams, which slows me down considerably.

By the time I had the afghans out of the oven and frosted, it was time to pick Cory up. He was at the private hospital, which is a little further away. He also failed to mention on the phone that he had to run back to the public hospital and check on a few things. (I should have brought a book for all the time I spent sitting in the car). Once we got home, it was time to start on dinner - cheese scones and potato soup for the evening meal. The cheese scones were a success; the soup could use some tweaking. See how being a stay-at-home wife can be busy? :)

Well, after such a busy Friday came the weekend. We went and picked up our bikes on Saturday. I know we’ve commented on how kind people have been, but here are just a few examples of kindnesses… We decided we wanted to buy bikes and Cory’s co-worker immediately sprung into action; in addition to giving Cory lots of tips and pointers about what to look for, he scoped out Trade-Me, a NZ-based website somewhat like Ebay. When he didn’t find anything there, he directed us to his favorite bike shops in town. Then, he loaned us a bike rack for our car so we wouldn’t have to buy one. Then, as were picking our bikes up, I got to talking to the shop owner’s wife, who was manning the counter. Somehow, don’t know how exactly, it came up that we didn’t have recycling at our apartment (she directed me to the drop off site I’d been trying to find), so I was going through garbage bags quickly. For garbage bags, as we have just a tiny bin, I’ve been using plastic shopping bags, so she tucked in some spare ones for us to use at home. In the meantime, the shop owner offered to help Cory put the bikes on the rack. Turned out we needed his help, as the bike frames were much larger in circumference than the rack was set-up to carry. Instead of pushing us to buy a bike rack from him, he went back to his shop, got some thinner material, and helped us wrench the bikes onto the rack. I’m not sure I’m doing justice in trying to explain these little kindnesses, but there, in one silly bike-buying experience, are several examples that we appreciate greatly.

We had other errands to run Saturday, too, including trying to purchase a cell phone for me. The costs of cell phones, in addition to home phones and internet, are a little different. There are very few “unlimited” plans – everything is based on usage and is fairly expensive. In the US, Cory and I had a plan that included our two phones and provided us with more minutes than we ever used; it cost us around 60 bucks. Here, I can do a plan with 60 minutes a month for about 60 bucks; that doesn’t include Cory and it doesn’t include the cost of the phone. To set up a contract, they needed a visa, so I had been waiting on that. Once it arrived, I was looking forward to have a phone; since we are sharing a car, there are times I need to be available for a phone call and don’t really want to be sitting at home. So, visa in hand, I was excited to set up a phone plan. However, I failed the credit check. I don’t know why exactly, but I’m assuming it’s because I simply have no credit. (Hmmm… any chance that not having a job was a factor?Ouch.) Bummer.

That night, we went for dinner at the home of one of Cory’s co-workers and were joined by three other guests as well. We had a delicious dinner, a menu chosen for it’s offering of traditional New Zealand fare – mashed kumara, roast lamb, and braised carrots, served with quince jelly gravy. In addition to stuffing my face, I got to pick the Kiwis’ brains a little bit, in as socially appropriate manner as I could (nothing like peppering your hosts and other dinner guests with a million questions). I was pleased to get the simplest answer to my questions about rugby league and ruby union – these are two different versions of rugby and it seems important to know at least that they are different. Turns out rugby league is what we see played by the All Black and back in the US, while rugby union might be considered a little rougher. Both are big over here. I got all wrapped up in other conversation, though, and forgot to question everyone about netball. It is played only by girls (in skirts) and appears to work a little like 6-on-6 basketball. I’ll keep you posted…

Sunday, we woke to pouring rain, but bravely soldiered on with plans to head to Wai-o-tapu (“sacred waters”), another area of thermal activity. I know, we really can’t get enough of this! It was a great day, starting with viewing Lady Know Geyser in action. From our guide books, I knew that she erupted at 10:15. As we waited in the rain, Cory and I discussed why there would be such a predictable time, based on a 24-hour cycle. We soon had our answer. The guide, right around 10:15, stepped up to the cone from which the geyser erupted. He tossed in some large pellets and proceeded to explain that the biodegradable detergent he had just added to the subterranean cistern caused the surface tension of the cooler water to decrease and allowed the lower, boiling water to steam and erupt. (Or something like that.) The phenomenon of the Lady Knox Geyser was first discovered years ago, when prisoners came to the lake’s edge from a nearby prison camp to wash their clothes. Supposedly, the detergent from their clothes had a similar effect to what we witnessed. Envision that, huh? Casually washing your clothes, chatting with the lads, cursing your luck at being caught in whatever unsavory activity you’d been doing, when…HOLY CRAP!!! I can’t quit picturing the tale of that first eruption.

Saturday, August 16th

Thursday I headed over to Tauranga, not far from the hospital where Cory works, to Kaka Street Special School. I haven’t gotten the education system figured out just yet and I think it may be a little while before I do.

I started a long explanatory treatise here, but the reality is that I have more questions than I have answers, and that might not be a real exciting read for those of you not quite as interested in education as I am.

So, to keep it short, I wandered into this school which serves only special education students. I guess you could say that, in the US, it is generally considered an established belief that special education students, of all degrees, should be educated alongside (if not “with”) their regular education peers. There are two such special education schools still remaining in Iowa (Ruby VanMeter in Des Moines and River Hills in Cedar Rapids); they are a little bit of an archaic remnant, but the community of parents in those areas has always fought for them to remain open. Current teachers in Cedar Rapids have taught in the areas’ former special ed schools and can tell you stories about when they brought their students into the regular schools. (Seriously, it is fascinating…)

So I didn’t know (and still don’t) if there is a slightly different attitude in NZ, or if I am working in just one of those rare remaining remnants of an older system. Either way, I would say that Kaka Street struck me as a very “safe” school – the buildings and layout are extremely accessible, they had great equipment, seemed to have well-trained staff, and all the conveniences of a great sped program.

The vice principal (or deputy principal, I guess) was very kind and excited to know that I had experience. She took me down to one of the classrooms and introduced me to the teacher. We stepped out of an especially boisterous music activity and chatted for awhile.

I realized, later, one of the reasons I was so happy to be at Kaka Street. I was actually in a place where I knew what was going on and was not wondering what I was supposed to do. It’s only been a few weeks that we’ve been out of the US, but I think I’ve just been trying hard to study what I’m seeing and figure out if there is something I can apply to myself and use, etc, etc… At Kaka Street, the teacher was listing things she’d like me to do and running though their schedule. It all made sense (I could understand her) and I had done it all before. In addition to helping in the classroom and working with students, she was hoping to have someone make some “resources” (as you say that, emphasize the 2nd syllable, instead of the 1st – it was so cute). She asked if I knew this software program (I did), this software program (I did), and then hesitantly asked if I knew this software program (I did). How good to know what you are talking about and be useful again.

So I will be volunteering out there 2 days a week for now – they were so grateful to have someone and seemed very excited. That goes for me, too!

Now, Cory has been riding into work with a co-worker and continues to really enjoy work. He is amazed (and pleased) by the easier-going atmosphere. They start later, finish earlier, and are thoroughly horrified by the schedule Cory used to keep. He rounded today (Saturday), and was telling a co-worker that he would see him tomorrow. His co-worker was completely flabbergasted that staff would round on patients on a Sunday. Horrified almost!

He continues to make the nurses laugh with requests for items that don’t exist, but it is a good-humored laugh and he continues to be amazed by the kindness of patients and co-workers.

One of the nice things about Cory riding in with his co-worker is that he’s been able to ask a few questions about things we’ve wondered. One thing that I am still not quite able to wrap my mind around is the presence of bare feet.

People are bare-footed outdoors, in gas stations, in grocery stores, in the mall. I am not really a person who hates feet, but I am sort of freaked out by this. I’m not sure. All those signs, “No shirt, no shoes, no service”, keep popping into my mind. But if you look around at others when you spot a bare-footed person, no one else, even the shoed folks seem to evidence any sign of concern. So I will work hard to keep my mind open and, perhaps, I’ll bring this fancy-free, footwear-optional attitude back to the US with me…

Monday – Thursday

So we were almost deported last week. Okay, that isn’t exactly true, but Cory did get a call from NZ Immigration at work on Friday. They called to ask some questions about paperwork, and then finished up their conversation by asking if he was at work. (I’m thinking they probably knew the answer as they’d called the hospital number listed as his “work” number.) They then mentioned that decisions on his work visa were hanging in the balance and suggested he discontinue his illegal activities and wait for further notice. I wouldn’t say the warning was delivered in an ominous tone, but the message itself was clear enough. So Cory left work early; it was supposed to be his late night, the one night that he stays ‘til 10:30 and takes any ortho calls that come in. He had to find someone to cover, so we took the kind guy a burger from BurgerFuel later that evening. (Thank you, Jerome!) A lady from the hospital who has been helping Cory get things set-up over here called Immigration or whoever it is you call and they said he’d have his visa by Monday. I thought it was pretty funny – when else (hopefully) will we ever be illegally working immigrants – but Cory definitely did not think it was funny and forbade me from telling the story to anyone until things were sorted. But, after months of waiting and re-submitting paperwork, our work visas and permits did arrive Monday morning. Ah, relief…

In the meantime, we’d been talking about buying bikes, so we went bike shopping last Saturday. We’re sharing a car, which is working out fine, especially as I only have obligations two days of the week right now. But Cory has been talking about biking to work and would also really like to ride some of the trails over here. Our plan was to buy some pretty cheap bikes and just sell them when we were ready to leave, but at the first place we stopped, the owner said that shipping bikes back by freight wasn’t too expensive. He even offered to help pack them up and send them off for us. Cory liked two bikes he saw there, but he is not an impulse buyer (this is an understatement), so we drove to all the other shops in town. We hustled to come back to the first shop and trial ride the bikes. Of course, Cory didn’t want to even think about buying until, as he put it, “our situation” was resolved. So now that we are no longer illegal immigrants, Derek, the shop owner, worked up a package deal for us. We’ll pick up our bikes on Satuday. I’m hoping that biking on the opposite side of the road will be something I pick up a bit quicker than driving on the opposite side. It seems there are probably more dire consequences should I mess up…

While Cory is talking about biking to work, I will not even suggest that is a possibility for me. I don’t actually work, of course, but there is no way I’m going to ride to the school I started volunteering at. It’s not that it’s really far away, but it is far enough for me.
I’ve been to Kaka Street Special School twice now; I went Monday and Wednesday this week. I’ve enjoyed it so far, but I’m still in that awkward stage of discerning my role and figuring out how things work. That will come in time. So far, I’ve helped in two of the four classrooms – one class of high school students and one class of elementary school students. All of the students have pretty significant mental disabilities and most have a concomitant physical disability. There are some things that seem different from the classes I’ve worked with before. Right now, I think that some things are different because it’s a NZ school, other things that seem different because it is a special school, and then there are things that are different that I would relate to individual teaching choices. I just haven’t figured out which of the above categories each of these “different” things falls into.

For example… School starts at 9:00; we have morning tea from 9:45-10:05, and we have lunch from 12:30-1:30. Okay, so I think that most schools start a little later than in the US, so we can assign that difference to the school being located in NZ. Having morning tea and an hour lunch (I get 30 minutes for lunch at Jefferson; during that 30 minutes, I feed students in my classroom) may be a difference that I can attribute to it being a school in NZ or to it being a special school. I’ll keep you posted on these fascinating ruminations…

It is really neat to see almost the whole staff gathered together in one room during morning tea, though. There are a few rotating staff each day that are assigned to supervise the students during this time, but otherwise, everyone, from principal to custodial staff, gather together for tea. There are community tea supplies (mugs and teaspoons; tea, coffee, and milo, a chocolate drink; kiwi; and some sort of baked good) and everyone helps themselves. The fact that everyone fits in one room is a pretty big difference in itself! Morning tea break just made my list of “favorite things about NZ”!

Saturday - Sunday

I have been cooking quite a bit and really enjoying it. I really do like to cook, but it is well-known that I simply don’t, or didn’t, much at home. Now, with quite a bit more free time on my hands, I’ve been cooking pretty regularly. Especially after living in a hotel and then traveling for a few weeks, now that we are finally settled, we’ve been eating in as opposed to eating out so much.

So in addition to my kumara experiment, I’ve been whipping up other New Zealand treats. On this weeks’ menu is ricotta, lemon, and parsley on pasta; ham and leek pasties; and potato soup with cheese scones. I also made some afghans, a popular and delicious cookie, to take to a friend’s house. I’m not sure, really, if it is a good idea, as an outsider, to take the national cookie favorite to actual New Zealanders. We’ll see…

But, it hasn’t all been me slaving over a stove. We’ve been out to eat a few times (and I’ve noted how challenging this can be for us) and it’s been good. Twice now, though, we’ve had what I would consider “American” food. This has been with some mixed results…
One night, Cory was craving pizza and we were looking forward to going to a cozy Italian restaurant a block or two from our apartment. We stepped out of the drizzle, glad to be inside and looked for a table. I’d pointed out a table for two when the proprietress zoomed over to tell us she had no tables and would not until 9:30 or so. Bummer. On our walk back, we decided that we might try Hell’s Pizza, which we’d seen advertised. I mean, pizza from hell can’t be all bad. But they didn’t deliver and the restaurant was 20 minutes or so away. So we opted for Pizza Hut – a medium pepperoni. It came pretty promptly and, by then, we were ready for warm food. But the pepperoni was a little different, and the thick slabs were not exactly what we’d expected. Cory ate up, but I think I’ll hold off on Pizza Hut for awhile.

We had much better luck with a “fast food” burger. Now there are Burger Kings and McDonalds all over in the larger towns. (The smaller towns, however, have been spared. Fast food in most parts consists of the ever-present pie - and you know how I love a good pie)! There is a Burger King just down the block from us, though we haven’t chosen to partake. But Cory has had the craving for a burger. A friend brought him one at work one night and he’s found his oasis in BurgerFuel.

BurgerFuel doesn’t carry your typical, straight-up burgers. No tomatoes, lettuce, ketchup, mayo plainjane burgers. You can do a hamburger, a chicken burger, a fish burger, a veggie burger (a patty of mushrooms and chickpeas). The toppings include beetroot, parmesan, stilton, peanut satay, relishes, etc. The regular fries are served with aioli, but you can opt for kumara fries too. De-lish…

In amongst all this eating, we have been able to get out a little, too. Today we headed to Kaiate Falls. It was stunning. Driving in the countryside continues to awe me. I’m sure there is something to say for novel surroundings, but there is also just some unbelievable beauty here. The falls themselves were stunning. It was a misty morning, but the area was just lush. I can’t really do the views justice; you’ll have to use Cory’s photos as the best available stand-in.

Wednesday

Ah, so my lunch get-together on Monday was at Alimento. It just wasn’t in the phone book apparently. I hope to get better at the accent soon, but I still struggle a little bit. The vowels are pronounced a little differently; “flatter” according to one guide book. Apparently you can tell by vowel pronunciation the difference between an Australian and a New Zealander. I was trying to discern this while listening to a conversation between an Aussie and a Kiwi yesterday, but any difference was too subtle for my thick skull, apparently.

Other little things fool me, too. Today, out grocery shopping (surprise), I was asked, as I’ve been asked several times “FlyBuys?” This is a nationally used discount program, where you accumulate points based on your purchases. So I’ve been asked this a dozen times, but I always stop, stand dumbly, slowly process, and respond after a several second delay. However, the guy at the gas station gave me an application for the program, so now maybe I can break out my card like a true Kiwi.

Another example of my occasional confusion… I asked to purchase a reusable bag at the grocery store. The clerk said yes, and then she asked for identification. I got out my Iowa driver’s license while thinking, “Did I misspeak? I just want to buy a bag. Why do they need ID? Did I ask for a lotto ticket on accident or something?” Of course the clerk was unsure what to do with my Iowa license and so flagged a manager down. The manager took one look at me and said, “Oh, she’s ok,” with a fair amount of confidence. That made me feel good that I must look reputable. It was then that I realized the clerk had just scanned my 6-pack of Tui, an NZ beer, and was trying to id me for that. Now the drinking age over here is 18, so I’m not sure what her concern was. That also explained the utter certainty the manager displayed upon looking at me. And I thought she must think me trustworthy – instead she just thought me plenty old!

While I’m thinking of it, I wanted to just ask what the US is showing on TV for the Summer Games. We’ve watched a little the past few nights, and I don’t know if it is just the selections of NZOne TV, but I feel like I am watching some atypical events. You know, it’s been four years, so maybe I’ve forgotten, but so far we’ve caught sculling, sailing, canoeing, kayaking, badminton, and table tennis. Maybe the other stuff just isn’t on yet or maybe the time zone thing is off or perhaps these are the events that Kiwis just get really pumped about. Hmmm…I could grow to love watching professional table tennis!

The weekend (Monday)

Now that we are a little more settled, there are those pantry-type items that you always have on hand that I needed to buy. I was thinking things like sugar, flour, etc. Instead of buying a whole collection, I’ve decided to buy these items as the need arose. There are several small stores, dairies or superettes, within walking distance, and most of these seem to have the basics in addition to convenience foods. So, if I hadn’t planned ahead, I can always run out quickly. I’ve also been trying to decide where to buy groceries. There is a butcher and a bulk foods store about ½ a block away, a grocery store about 25 minutes walk away (too far to go, I’ve decided), and just beyond the grocery store, a vege/fruit stand and a seafood store.

I’m not used to stopping several places for groceries, but I thought it would be nice to check out the smaller stores and try to shop more locally (as opposed to the chain grocery) if possible.

So I started at Bin Inn. They have some pre-packaged products, but most of their items are in, you guessed it, large bins. A big selection of cereals, granola, muesli, dried fruits; every sort of sugar, flour, yeast you can think of; cooking oils (canola, olive, sunflower, vegetable, etc); even cleaning supplies. Plus, since you are choosing the amount, I didn’t have to get a large amount of some things I didn’t think I’d need a lot of.

I then headed to Col’s Butchery. One thing Cory pointed out last week at the grocery store is that they don’t seem to have turkey. They do have a lot of cuts of lamb, a little more offal than I’m used to, and plenty of beef, pork, and chicken, though. Anyway, I bought some lamb from the very amused young clerk. (I don’t know what lamb forequarter looks like!)

I had been to the library last week and gotten some (not-large-print) NZ cookbooks and have been trying out some recipes. So far they’ve all been a hit, but then Cory is so surprised to see me cooking routinely that he probably doesn’t want to do anything that might sound ungrateful. So the lamb was for a lemon, garlic, and lamb stew. I haven’t made it yet, so I’ll keep you posted. The kumara, by the way, was great; but disappointingly, I think kumara is just another name for sweet potato, not a different vegetable. I’ve also made potato, feta, and smoked salmon pizza, pan-fried fish with braised vegetables, and lemon ricotta hotcakes. All have been pretty good.

After the butchers, I decided to head to the other stores. Both Mt. Fresh and Deli-ca-sea are just a block from the grocery store, so I figured whatever was still on my list after those two could be picked up at the grocery store.

I don’t know enough about sea food and fish to make any educated comments, but there selection seemed really good – more food that I know what to do with. (Squid? I now know how to clean out the “tubes.” “Will I?” is another question.) I got some fish fillets and smoked salmon. Helpfully they also have seafood handling tips and recipes.

Mt. Fresh had a great selection of fruits and vegetables. They are in, essentially, a shack of corrugated metal, so it felt a little bit like shopping at one of Muscatine’s melon stands. Even without the good produce, I’d be back for the nostalgia alone.

Enough about groceries – fascinating only to me probably…

Saturday we headed down to Rotorua again. There is a lot happening in this area, and we didn’t get to see all that we wanted to see last weekend. We didn’t this weekend either, but, luckily, it is a short drive and a good day-trip. We wandered their downtown area a little bit; Cory is on a quest for art galleries. Most seem to be closed up until summer, when I guess the area becomes inundated with tourists. The local paper here in the Bay referred to it snidely as “Rotovegas.” Not exactly a Vegas feel, but I get what they are driving at. We checked out the Rotorua museum; if you remember this area has a lot of thermal activity, so the smell of sulfur is on the air and therapeutic bathing was once the rage. The museum was in the old bath house, which was quite a hot spot even so many years ago.

After that, we thought we’d try finding an area called Kerosene Creek. It is a stream that is very warm and locals do their own bit of “bathing” in it. After some driving around, we did find the creek. We also ran into one of Cory’s co-workers, which was sort of amazing, as we know about a dozen people in all of NZ. He had brought his kids down for a swim. The area had actually been pretty recently deforested, except for a strip surrounding Kerosene Creek. We knew that nearby was another pool, where a cool water stream and a hot water stream mix, so we went to find that area.

This area was very cool. You have to sort of know about the area, as there are no signs on the nearby roads. But you park your car along this tiny road and wander down a dirt path between the trees; as the two small streams converge, there is a small, shallow area, where waters from both mix. It was late afternoon and the sun was setting; the temperature was perfect. It was pretty amazing.

We have these salt water pools in Maunganui, at the base of the mountain, that we haven’t even checked out yet. But they are in an actual pool setting, so you lose some of the stunning ambiance of this pool. But, someday soon, we will.

Speaking of the Mount, we walked to the summit on Sunday. We packed a small lunch and, after a somewhat arduous climb for someone who is sadly out of shape, ate lunch looking over the ocean. Cory posted some pictures from the summit – the view is pretty great. The paths up are really popular; there were tons of people out. Sadly, small children, 50 year olds, even those in heeled boots carrying purses, all seemed to be trudging up with less effort than me. Appalling, really.

Today, Monday, I am meeting one of Cory’s co-workers’ wives for lunch. She called last night and told me the name of the restaurant. I’ve written down “Elemental, Alimento, Elemento???” She gave me directions, so I do know where I’m heading, down the specific block, at least, but I was hoping to get a better fix on the name. I was sure I’d be able to find it in the phone book, but have had no such luck. So I’m leaving early to try to locate this mysterious spot. Any guesses???

There’s no place like home… (Thursday)

Ahhh… We have a permanent-for-a-year apartment. We are going to stay where we’ve been for this past week and a half.

What a relief to have a permanent address. Now, of course, I’ll have to memorize it (and the phone number), which could take some doing. I’ve seen the address written about three different ways and I’m not sure what all is included. Often instead of a house/building number, addresses will just be listed as “Crn of blank and blank street”. I also have yet to figure out if I need to include the region, which I think is Tauranga, on the postal address. And then there’s the four-digit zip-like code, which I haven’t included on anything I’ve filled out! I guess it probably doesn’t matter much, as our mail has gotten to us so far.

We’d spoken last week with Lindy, the manager here, after she’d asked what our long-term plans were. We had none, of course, so were pleased to when she mentioned that she had several places available depending on our budget. She returned from a holiday yesterday, said that she’d talked to the owner of our current apartment, and that he would be willing to let us have the place for the year. I was ecstatic; I’d been unconsciously settling in (though I had not unpacked a bag yet) – thinking of little things I’d need, measuring the distances of routine trips, envisioning the little deck in the summer time, etc – since we’d gotten here.

With that settled, I dragged the luggage into the living room and unpacked fully. I gave Cory, without his consent, actually, the dresser in the spare bedroom and took the one in our bedroom for myself. Hey, he gets up early and I don’t want him waking me up! He swears he doesn’t mind and even said that it makes sense. He spoils me terribly.

It is odd to unpack all your belongings in about 10 minutes and see that they don’t cover the living room floor. That is an overly-dramatic statement, as we have a 10x10 storage unit back in Coralville crammed to it’s gills with the rest of our belongings. But it was odd to unpack and “move-in” so quickly. But, still, a very good feeling…

I picked Cory up last night and told him it was left-overs or out-to-eat (which really just delays and extends the left-overs situation), so he picked out-to-eat. We went to a Mediterranean place; it was great food and a fun little café. Here’s what we haven’t gotten figured out yet…how one sits/orders over here. Sometimes, you walk directly to the counter, order, pay, and then sit wherever. Other times, you are seated, handed a menu, and then go to the counter to order/pay. One other time, we were seated, handed, a menu, and then a waitress came to take our order; we then paid at the counter at the end of the meal. I haven’t been able to discriminate upon entering what appropriate action is to be taken. So I usually just walk inside the door and stand, dumbly, until someone acknowledges me and comes to my aid. Surely there is some sort of “code” to follow, but I have no idea what it might be.

So today, after feeling satiated by my bout of unpacking and a good meal, I headed out to acquire some more “stuff” for our new home. The list wasn’t long, but I wasn’t really sure where to find everything and spend a fair amount of time pleasantly wandering around. It may be that I am very sensitive to it right now, but it seems that everyone is remarkably pleasant. Even when I do things “wrong”, like try to grab the debit card machine (I can’t tell when I am supposed to swipe my card and when they need to swipe my card for me), or take down a display item, or talk quietly to myself.

This talking to myself is not a new phenomenon. People joke about how that is okay, as long as you don’t answer yourself. Come on. I’m always carrying on a conversation; often it is out loud. It’s fine. I mean, I’m not yelling or using different voices (yet). At times I blame it on being a special education teacher; when the kiddos can’t always respond, you’ve got to keep the conversation going somehow! The reality is that I would probably do it anyway.

So, a frequent exchange I have with my self goes something like this, “Look right, then left. Right, look right.” At school, when I’m teaching kids to safely cross streets, I use similar wording; the kids know it so well eventually they mumble along with me. “Look left, look right. Is it safe to cross? Cross quickly.” I haven’t had to go this extended version, but, after a helpful warning from a friend who’d spent time in London, looking right has saved my behind more than once all ready.

Actually, I have to give Nikki full credit here. Cory and I were at a get-together and were getting ready to head out. As we were leaving for New Zealand shortly, as we were saying our goodbyes, Nikki offered the helpful reminder to always “look left”. She mentioned that she’d been nearly run over by a dozen taxis as she stepped out into traffic without looking left first. Old American habits die hard.

As we left and were making our way down the block, I was mulling her advice over in my head. “Look left? Hmm…” In that instant, the door to the home we’d been at burst open, Nikki stepped out into the evening, dramatically backlit by the glow of the house, and yelled, “Look RIGHT! I mean look right!” I have not mistaken this yet, thanks to Nikki. “Look right!” reverberates in my head.

Right or Left? (Wednesday)

I went to pick Cory up last night; it was dark, but I was feeling pretty good about my driving. Well, that should’ve been my first warning – you jinx yourself when you are overconfident.

I missed my second turn and drove into essentially a dead-end. There was no traffic, so I pulled in and got headed the right direction, pleased that I hadn’t had to go too far out of the way. I was cruising along, listening to the wacky accents on my NZ radio station, when I realized I was on the wrong side of the road. The headlights in front of me, in the same lane, but coming from the opposite direction, were a good reminder. For crying out loud! Now, it was only a block, but still…my worst fear, realized.

Luckily, I managed not to cause an accident and quickly shifted into the correct lane. Now, as this car and I continued to approach each other, I imagine the other driver was a little nervous. But, I nailed the next challenge.

There is a rule here about yielding to the right. Really, that makes a lot of sense as you are going through traffic rounds; I’m good with that. The problem comes in this situation: two cars, facing each other from their correct perspective lanes (imagine one coming from north and one from south), both turning, say east, onto the same perpendicular road. Our rule in the US is that the driver crossing fewer lanes of traffic has the right of way and would turn first. If that rule applied here, the driver turning left would make the turn. However, and this is crazy, I know, in NZ, the driver making a right-hand turn gets the right-of-way!

Anyway, if you followed all that, I made the correct turn in front of the driver I’d just managed to scare out of his wits. It would not be outrageous to suggest that he was just so worried about the crazy girl on the wrong side of the road that he let me go, but regardless, I nailed that turn.

Ironically enough, after telling all this to Cory on the way home and listening to him chuckle at me, this morning, on the way to work, he cut some big lorrie (okay, a truck) off in a reverse situation on the same intersection. My turn to chuckle!

And, Cory didn’t have to work his “long” day yesterday. Instead, he’ll do it Thursday, which at least gives him another day to acclimate. He got lost going to the department yesterday, and was trying to punch in his code at the wrong set of doors. That image makes me laugh every time I call it up… :)

Cory has been pleased with how friendly every one is. This is a good thing, considering he has some new medical terms to catch on to. He operated yesterday, and kept asking for tools or dressings and the nurses would look at him like he was crazy and say “we don’t have anything by that name.” They also thought he sounded hilarious, apparently.

He was intrigued to hear about the residency programs here in NZ. Like the US, four years of medical school are required. After that, you enter your residency program. Othropaedic programs in the US range from 5-6 years; in NZ, you do two years of general surgery, then 2 years of basic ortho. Then, if you are accepted into the ortho program, you do another 4 years of ortho training. Plus, most do 2 years of fellowship in one or more specialty areas. (You know how in Wikipedia, they’ll put in a note that a certain piece of information requires a citation. We’ll consider this my note that I believe this paragraph, and the following, are accurate, but, hey, I’m no expert.)

A positive (in terms of lifestyle) to such an extended program when compared to the US seems to be the hours. Cory was told to show up at 7:30; he was sort of hounding the junior residents to see when they would be showing up, because he thought he’d show up earlier, too. But they really don’t go in until 7:30. Also, as he went to do a case yesterday afternoon, it was after 4:00, and another junior was surprised to see him still at the hospital, as most others had left. They have a 60 hour work week that is actually followed, so that has been a pleasant surprise for Cory.

I personally can’t work an 80-hour or a 60-hour work week, which is why I’m thinking I will try volunteering over here. I heard back from Maunganui College but promptly, and idiotically, deleted the email without reading it. Don’t ask. I can’t explain it either. So, I resent my earlier email with a note saying that I am not always so dense. Hopefully they’ll reply. A staff that helped Cory get set up over here is in orthopaedic pediatrics and referred me to a special ed school, so I shot them an email today, too. From the website, it seemed that their students might sort of be like my students at CR Jeff. It would be pretty interesting to see, so hopefully that will work out, too.

Monday

I can’t tell you how much I love it when someone comments. It feels so odd, posting this out there in web-space and not knowing if this is actually interesting to anyone else. That being said, I should credit Cory as the photographer – I don’t actually know how to even hook up the camera.

Lauren asked about gas prices, which was a timely comment, as we put about ¾ of a tank in the sweet new ride on Saturday – that was all our 80 NZ bucks got us! The going price is about 2.00 NZ dollars a litre (4 litres in a gallon = 8 NZ dollars a gallon). An NZ dollar is about 0.80 US dollars.

And, speaking of conversions, I’ve got the time conversion down (for us here, back 12 hours and then another 5 to get central standard); I can usually do the miles-kilometers (or “k”s as the car dealers refer to them) and the Farenheit to Celsius. I’ve got nothing on the smaller measurements or the volume, but so far Cory has come in very handy for this!

However, as Cory started work yesterday (poor thing) I am going to have to start taking care of myself again. We realized that we’d been hanging out, full-time, for 2 whole weeks and hadn’t killed each other yet, which was a good sign. That is the longest we’ve ever been around each other without the interruption of work. I always joke that not seeing each other is what makes our marriage work, but I guess we can make it through two weeks together.

With Cory going to work yesterday, after dropping him at the hospital, I headed off on my own. I’d only driven alone (without someone to verbally remind me “stay on the left”, “yield to the right”, “GET OVER TO THE RIGHT!”) one other time, when we bought the car and needed to return the rental. I really do have to pay attention and I’m not really sure anyone would want to ride with me, but I do okay. I can now navigate, without the aid of a map, from the hospital to home and from the grocery store to home. Small steps…

So, I dropped Cory off, made my way back home (aka the temporary apartment), had some tea, showered, and got up the nerve to call the local high school, Mount Maunganui College. (There are a lot of different labels here that I am slowly picking up on. I’m making a list, which maybe I’ll include soon for your perusal.) I was hoping to offer myself up as a volunteer, but the secretary I spoke with transferred me to the reliever coordinator, reliever being the label for substitute. Conveniently enough, the reliever coordinator wasn’t in. I subbed for a month between finishing undergrad and starting grad school. I subbed in Muscatine, where I knew all the schools and knew some of the teachers. I subbed on a continent where I knew the common terms, didn’t struggle with the accent, and had a first-hand (both as a teacher and as a student) experience with the culture of schools. Even then there were times I was uncertain… Should I check to see if the first graders washed their hands? In the “new math” of second grade, when I’m demonstrating regrouping, where do I start crossing off? (The answer is “NOT THERE!” Don’t mess with second graders.) Do you think that they normally check their homework in class? Hmmm… So when contemplating subbing here in NZ, I start to get a little panicky. Back to the point – the reliever coordinator was gone, so when I got transferred back to the secretary, I attempted to re-establish the fact that I would like to volunteer on a regular basis. She said, verbatim, though you can’t hear her cute accent, “Oh, how sweet!” Really, is it that sweet? Am I using the wrong word for volunteer? Do they not need/use volunteers here? I’m not really sure. I did think that perhaps a follow-up email was in line and shot an email to the principal (whose email was in the phone book). We’ll see…

I really hate making phone calls; I don’t know why. But once I finally had that taken care of, I thought I would reward myself and check out the local library. I have a list of topics I wanted books on and, after having barely gotten over here with our luggage, I’m trying hard not to buy too many. The library was one hoppin’ place! I guess I expected it to be a little quieter on a Monday at 10:30 in the morning. Now, I’d heard that Maunganui was a retirees’ haven, and this may explain how busy the library was. About half the library is large print books and they appear to be very popular. Ah ha! The library was fairly small, but offered up most of what I was looking for. Cory and I desperately need a book on rugby, as I’m drawing off knowledge from over a decade ago as a wing (my only job was the catch the ball and run). I also wanted a good New Zealand cook book. Helpfully, they identify books by NZers with a cute little picture of a Kiwi (the bird, not the fruit) above the call number. So I settled on a few cookbooks and a “rugby for dummies” book.

I headed to the grocery store next. I was inspired by the cookbooks, but didn’t want to buy too many staple ingredients – one more thing to move at the end of the week! So nothing to exciting on the list: milk, OJ, cocoa, tea, apples, tomatoes, and ice cream. Remember it is winter here, which really is pretty mild, but folks drink cocoa, tea, or coffee for breakfast and then throughout most of the day. When in Rome... In addition to that exciting purchase, I had to get the famous NZ ice cream – hokey pokey. Cory and I had it after dinner last night. It’s pretty fantastic, though it would be slander to say otherwise. It is sort of a vanilla base with butterscotch undertones and then small, delightfully crunchy, butterscotch pieces. It isn’t hard like toffee or firm like a nut, but sort of brittle. Pretty good stuff…

And I bought a kumara! I almost forgot! A kumara appears to be an NZ-only vegetable, a tuber similar to a sweet potato. So tonight, if Cory is not working his “late night”, I’ll bake some kumara.

While I was off driving on the left side of the road, Cory was at his first day of work. It was sort of an orientation day, really, but today (Tuesday) he’ll get going for real. He has clinic in the private hospital in the morning and then trauma call this afternoon and maybe this evening. He is schedule to work 4 “regular” days (which means he show up at 7:30 a.m. – talk about sleeping in for him!) and one “long day”, where he’ll work until 10:30 p.m. (I know, those of you who are in residency think the idea of that as a “long day” is laughable. So did Cory, but no complaints, mate!) He did get scheduled for his first long day for today, his second day of work! A scheduling clerk said she would try to get it changed, so we’ll see. I know he’d be fine, but talk about baptism by fire!

And, hopefully, on Wednesday we'll have an update on the housing situation. The woman who runs these apartments, Lindy, had some options for us for a long-term stay. We really love this apartment and hope that our budget can afford something similar. We'll see!

Rotorua

Saturday we got in the car and headed south to Rotorua, which in Maori means “second lake” (roto = lake, rua = two; it being the second lake the newly landed Polynesian explorers had seen – fun fact). In and around Rotorua are hydrothermal areas; it lies on the Pacific Ring of Fire. The volcano Tarawera lies in the area; the last major explosion was in 1886, but there have been numerous others, with the most recent in 1973. The surrounding area, including old craters, some which have since formed lakes, and valleys is the Waimangu area. It was very cool. It was a rainy day, often just lightly misting. You could see steam eking out of the side of rocks, leaving little sulfur deposits along the rock face. From the gasses escaping from the crater bottom, the lake waters bubbled like a simmering pot; the water itself wasn’t boiling, though it was a good 50-75 degrees Celsius (which would be about 120-165 degrees Farenheit, I think). Other water would actually be shooting up, like a small geyser, a natural hot spring. In some areas, you’d be surrounded by tree ferns and other greenery, standing alongside a bubbling stream, sulfur smell in the air, and steam all around. The most striking view was that of Inferno Crater Lake. You know that blue-green color you pulled out of the Crayola box as a kid? Well, this water is truly that color. You really couldn’t stare long enough.

Last night, then, we watched the All Blacks game. If you recall, they’d been beaten pretty handily on the 26th by the Australian team, whose coach is a newly imported Kiwi rugby great. But, relief, the All Blacks pulled it off last night and whomped them!

I also wanted to give you a quick update on the culinary side of things. Okay, maybe culinary is too strong a word… But there are two different sodas here – ginger beer and L&P. Ginger beer had potential but the aftertaste that burns the back of your throat is just too strong. (Dad, you would love it.) L&P, or Lemon & Paeroa, however, is pretty good stuff. Paeroa is a nearby town with a natural spring – that, a little lemon, and some “secret ingredients” combine for a pretty good flavor! In fact, as the label states, it is “world famous in New Zealand”!

The saga continues… (Friday)

Cory got a call last night from his contact at the hospital; she said the medical council had come through and that he needed to go to Auckland to do his medical council interview on Friday. So, this morning, we waited for her phone call and then headed out on the road. The trip to Auckland takes about 3 hours, so while it wouldn’t be a short trip, it was good to be getting this taken care of!!

If you’ve missed all this, we’ve arrived here in NZ without a visa because we were missing the “registration” from the NZ Medical Council. We actually tried sending our application off to the consulate without the form, but they promptly sent it back – they really do check those things. Unfortunate in our case. :)

So, when the lady from the hospital called about the interview, she assumed that the council also had the registration and that we would receive it today. We’d then be able to apply for our visas on Monday.

Well, if you’ve caught on to the blatant foreshadowing, you will realize that this did not all happen according to our hopes. We arrived and Cory had his interview with a member of the NZ Medical Council. The guy promptly asked if Cory had his registration from the council. Whuuu? So the council guy gets on and calls someone else from “the council” and they indicate that Cory’s medical council application is missing a letter of reference… Without the letter of reference, we can’t get the registration. Without the registration, we can’t apply for the visa.

Now, if you want to do a quick flashback with us, you’ll see this exchange in a series of emails:
Hospital lady – Cory, I have all of your letters of reference.
Cory – Great!
(3 weeks later)
Hospital lady – Um, Cory I have two of your letters; I’m waiting on a third.
Cory – You said earlier that you had them all. They should’ve been sent.
(1 week later)
Hospital lady – Oh. Yeah. So, I have all of your letters of reference.
Cory – Oh. Okay. Well, great.
Really, this should have been cause for alarm. But, you know, you have to put some worries aside and move on. So we assumed it was okay and we forgot about it. Silly rabbit…

So, now, we’ve got to locate the missing letter of reference or (probably the simpler route) just get another one sent. Then, we can send it in to the medical council, get the registration, and apply for the visa. Finally.

Honestly, there hasn’t been that much harm done, not having a visa. We had to buy plane tickets for three months out, so that we could enter on a visitors visa. There will have to be a cancellation fee so we can change the tickets, but that is really all we are put out. So, don’t feel too bad as you read this tale of woe. Hey, we’re in New Zealand! :)

Thursday

(Okay, so this time, I fixed the time within Blogspot, so it really will be right this time around... Except that I couldn't ge the page to upload, so it's a day late. Bother.)

Oh - the sun came out this morning! We'd been hit with another tropical storm (aka a "weather bomb") on Tuesday. Tuesday night was simply unbelievable. There is a skylight in each room of our apartment and I truly believed that it was going to either blow off or come crashing in. The wind blew so hard and the rain poured. I like thunderstorms and very little wakes me once I fall asleep, but this was so unusual.

So this morning, when there was sunshine, we decided it was time to walk around Mt. Manuganui. The "mount", as folks refer to it, is at the norther tip of Maunganui and is a definite landmark. It isn't extremely large (I've got no stats here on size), but it is an inactive volcano that juts out into the ocean. The circumfrence of the Mount in about 3K, and it is a pretty, easygoing walk. There are also paths up to the summit, but we are saving that for later!

Big day...

So, I finally updated the time on the computer, so the posts will reflect NZ time. How confusing!

Got up this morning and decided it was time to accomplish some things! First on the list, a trip to the hospital where Cory will be working. Got to meet some of the people Cory had been talking to on the phone - finally putting a name with a face.

We then drove to a Honda dealer and promptly found two cars at the bottom end of our price range! Hooray! Test drove them both and, as of tomorrow, will have a dark green '97 Accord of our own. Oh, and I drove today too! No major (or minor either) accidents; still definitely nerve-wracking though.

After that, we checked in to the apartment that is ours for two weeks, while we look for something permanent. Two bedrooms, an open area with living room, dining area, and full kitchen. If you crane your neck just right from one of the windows, you can see the ocean.

The woman who owns the complex, Linday, mans the front desk and is a social networking genius (in a good way)... She has so far found every person in our age group that works at the hospital and is working her magic in the rental arena. Fantastic. If I'm not careful, she may have found me a job before I know what's good for me!

Heading toward Tuaranga and the Mount

We woke up this morning to a much calmer view out our hotel window. In reading the morning newspaper, Cory and I were surprised to discover that there had been a "weather bomb" that hit NZ - apparently that is the Kiwi way to say a storm. The AllBlacks (NZ'z rugby team) also got bombed last night - by the Aussies, who just hired a Kiwi favorite to be their coach. Ouch.
We feel asleep early last night (even earlier than my normal early) - still haven't adjusted to that time change apparently. And I didn't eat dinner, which, as you can imagine, means I woke famished and cranky. We wandered down Queen Street and found a coffee shop open and serving pastries. Really, there's not a lot of food I don't like, but I may be in love with all things ensconced in pastry. Yesterday morning, I had an almond croissant; today a ham and cheese brioche. The day before, for lunch, I had a steak and cheese "pie" - I'm going to love these pies! They are served everywhere and are filled with all sort of fillings, sweet and savory. And they're not too big and not too expensive. Yum...
After having gotten myself fed, we decided to take off for Tauranga. Cory has been doing the driving and was feeling brave enough to tackle a freeway. Really, he's doing remarkably well - I don't want to jinx us here, but he's a natural.
The road down was beautiful. Seriously, amazingly, beautiful. And we were just driving down a highway (which is really just a two-lane surfaced road). We also saw kiwi vines (or small trees or bushes - I don't know how to describe them) and other orchards. We got into Tauranga and headed toward Mt. Maunganui. The ocean was very choppy but there were still surfers out.
As of tomorrow, we will be in a temporary apartment that the hospital has set us up with. From there, we can search for a place to live for the rest of the year. And, once we get a car purchased, I have to start driving some. Yikes!

We've arrived!

And so has a tropical storm. Having never been in a tropical storm, I am slightly disappointed to find that it doesn't feel all that tropical. It is about 12 degrees here (Celsius, of course, and I have no idea what that actually translates to), rainy and windy. But, hey, it's my first tropical storm!
We arrived yesterday, about 5 a.m. local time; after making our way through customs, we stopped and picked up the keys to the rental car. Hilarious, in a frightening sort of way! If you can recall the first time you drove... Add to that the fact you are in a much larger, unfamiliar city. Throw in a few unfamiliar traffic signs. (What does an isocelese triangle mean to you? It's not an arrow, should you begin to think so. Don't worry, you'll catch on.) Oh, and everything is on the opposite side - the steering wheel, the turn signal, and the other drivers! I haven't driven yet, but I am practicing by giving Cory verbal directions to every movement (he swears he doesn't mind). Hopefully that is working, huh?

Okay, we really are going...

So we sold the house - closed on July 2nd - and are now living in a hotel until we fly out on the 23rd. We've got plane tickets, passports, and baggage. We don't have a visa, a place to live, or a vehicle to drive. Other than that whole pesky visa thing, I think we'll be okay!
We're waiting on the New Zealand Medical Council to provide "registration" of Cory's work in NZ. Until they do that, our visa app just sits here, waiting to be sent in. We actually tried to send it in once, but the Embassy promptly sent it back. We were hoping, I guess, that they'd overlook that little piece. Hmm... Didn't work.
So Cory is studying for boards and I am going to be subbing for summer school and then wrapping up whatever loose ends remain.
The count-down is on!