The Amazing Race: Hohepa Edition

Elsa is a wonderful inmate here at the prison who comes from Southern France. Her English isn't quite as strong as her French or Spanish, but that's still 2 more languages than I have, so I'm not judging- especially since I decided to spend my year abroad in an English speaking country and she has chosen to challenge herself and come to New Zealand.

Elsa found out about a job opportunity in the Hawke's Bay area at a centre for Autistic kids. It's on a farm called Hohepa that's about a 15 minute drive from Napier, so she asked Rachel, the only inmate with a car, if she could grab a ride out for a job interview. Rachel agreed, and since I had finished my shift and had nothing better to do, I jumped in the car to see a bit more of the area surrounding Napier.

When Elsa looked up directions to the farm on Google, they seemed straightforward enough. From the downtown area, you head west and then take a few turns before you're on the road that will take you right to Hohepa. So she scribbled down a few street names and off we went.

Rachel had just purchased her car, and was still getting used to driving on the other side of the road. This is challenging enough to do in general, but in this case the stress of trying to find a new place along with all the other traffic on the road made it downright difficult. I had driven on the 'other side' when I was in the Coromandel, and understood the feeling perfectly, so I was very empathetic to Rachel's stress.

Unfortunately, Elsa hadn't sketched out a map, and pronounced the street names in a way that Rachel and I couldn't understand. When we came to roundabouts, Rachel would ask which way we should go, and Elsa had trouble using clear, concise English directions like "Take the second exit on your right". There was more of the "Go there" and "Turn here" variety, when "there" and "here" could have been three different directions at once. The stress levels in the car were rising rapidly, and Elsa was supposed to be at her interview for one o'clock. We ended up in Ahuriri, which is another area of Napier and in the complete opposite direction of where we were supposed to be heading. An exasperated Elsa told Rachel she was going the wrong way, and an equally exasperated Rachel complained that Elsa wasn't giving proper directions. We kept going in circles as we tried to get back to the correct road, and it was 12:58. Elsa was swearing in the general direction of Rachel and asked if she could just drive the car herself, but Rachel said no and seemed like she was going to kick Elsa out of the car. Soon enough, she snapped. "Okay Elsa, you should have drawn a map. I am not going to drive you, this isn't working. We are going back to prison."

"... What?"
"Yup"
"PUTAIN!"

At this point, my phone finally loaded directions to the place using my fancy-dandy GPS. I told Rachel I knew how to get there, and asked her if she was still willing to go. Ever the angel, she agreed and I quietly started directing her while Elsa swore in the back seat.

After driving in the correct direction for 5 minutes, Elsa looked around and said, "We are going?"

"Yes Elsa. Danielle knows how to get there."

"RACHEL! THANK YOU RACHEL! THANK YOU!"

"Yup".

We arrived seven minutes late, but it didn't seem to be a problem. We agreed to meet back at the car in an hour. Unfortunately for Rachel and I, we were in the middle of farmland and there wasn't much to do. There was a large cemetery though, so we started wandering through it and chatting/decompressing from the drive up. There was a very pretty rose garden with each bush dedicated to a loved one who had passed. It was quite peaceful.

After the hour was up, we returned to the car. Elsa had a good interview, and we were able to get back to Napier without any trouble.

If I was in the drivers seat, I may have had a brain aneurysm. In the passengers seat, it was a highly entertaining way to spend my afternoon.

Merry Christmas to All!

Despite going to bed around 3:30 in the morning, I woke up bright and early at 9:30 on Christmas Day. The rest of the prison was still asleep, which was nice since I could Skype my family and wish them a very merry Christmas.

My day was planned thanks to Marion and Toro, the prison owners who invited all of us inmates to their family picnic in Eckland Park somewhere outside of Napier. The 'family' was definitely of the extended variety, so we ended up at a potluck with about 50 other people that featured just about every kind of meat imaginable, tons of salads and free beer (!). I brought cupcakes, which is always a crowd pleaser. Apart from the delicious food, the park itself was beautiful, and we could not have asked for better weather. There were tall trees spaced around the park so there was shade everywhere you might want it. Near the back of the park, hidden behind some tall grasses was a river that we chilled in for a while to cool off, and then sun tanned til about 3 when we came back to the prison.

Me! On Christmas Day! Suntanning and splashing in a river!

Jonne bought some water balloons, so we spent the next half hour filling them all up for an epic battle of boys versus girls.. that lasted all of 10 minutes. The prison grounds were covered in colourful plastic pieces of rubber, but we were not discouraged. I'm not sure who started it, but we all grabbed pots from the kitchen and chased each other around the exercise yard with buckets of water. No matter how drenched we got, every new bucket was just as cold and wet as the first one. My weapon of choice was two metal mugs filled with water that I splashed in people's faces. Will had a huge stew pot, Rachel and Jonne had big buckets, and Nic had a sauce pot which you think would do more damage, but apparently my perfect aim that got everyone right in the face every time was a whole other level of weapon. Our battle lasted about 2 hours until we were finally exhausted and had probably wasted enough water to solve Australia's drought problems. Since we were already wet, Rachel, Jonne and I ran down the hill to the ocean and jumped in. We just bobbed for about half an hour, and the waves just kept crashing in on us. I don't know the last time I've laughed that hard. I was happy and exhausted, and finished off the night by watching Elf with some inmates and then headed off to bed, thrilled with my Kiwi Christmas.

'Twas the Night Before Christmas, and All Through the Prison...

For one reason or another, the prison staff have all gathered here in Napier as poor, displaced travellers away from their families on Christmas. This actually works to our mutual benefit, as we all have the same goal of making the holiday as memorable as possible in the weirdest of circumstances. We're all from the Northern Hemisphere, and so to have Christmas during the summer where snow is painted on store front windows while we walk by in shorts and Santa Claus is overheating in his suit is all common ground to marvel at.

This is what a Southern Hemisphere Santa should look like

We decided to all pitch in 20 bucks for a Christmas feast, and had a quick brainstorming session to figure out everyone's favourite Christmas dishes. On the afternoon of Christmas Eve, Rachel, Jonne, and I cooked a meal for 10. Mashed Potatoes, Asparagus, cranberry sauce, gravy, salad, Carrot/Pumpkin/Kumara/Potato bake, cauliflower with cheese sauce, and stuffing. Will came in a bit later to prove his mastery in cooking the lamb we featured as our main dish (it seemed apt, being in New Zealand).

Dinner was served around 6, and we all gathered together to eat, drink, and be merry. The food was absolutely delicious, and I was perfectly overstuffed as everyone should be on Christmas. Abi made tirimasu for dessert that she soaked in about 2/3 of a bottle of kahlua, so if we weren't feeling the wine we drank before, we were definitely feeling it at that point. I even got presents! The owners of the prison got everyone chocolates all nice and gift wrapped, and then the inmates did a white elephant gift exchange, where I got more chocolates. This was perfect for me, because A) I love chocolate, and B) I have absolutely no extra room in my backpack to carry anything around. After laying down to recover from a brief food coma (and while the others did the dishes, heh heh), a bunch of us went down to The Cri, a local pub, decked out in our Christmas cracker hats and some sparkly garland from the tree. We played some pool, drank, and danced for a while, but sadly they kicked us out at midnight. This didn't bother me since it was Christmas Eve, but apparently in parts of Britain, pubs are busiest the day before Christmas so the boys were annoyed. Oh well. We came back to the prison and Alex, Will and I played shithead (a really fun card game) for about 3 hours. Quite different from my usual tradition of eating at Baba's, church, and watching White Christmas, but no complaints here.

Feast!

Basil, the Ghost Cat

Sometime in the 1960s, Napier Prison welcomed in a man named Basil who was incarcerated on charges of fraud. Basil was a cat lover, and apparently had an obscene amount of them at home. If there was ever a stray cat hanging around the prison, he would always make sure it was fed properly and shown a little bit of affection. Sadly, Basil passed away in his cell during his sentence from natural causes. Two weeks after he died, a little kitten showed up.

The kitten was mostly white, but had strange markings on it's face: one side of it's mouth had a thin patch of black fur, while the other side had a patch of ginger fur. Now, Basil the prisoner was in a house fire when he was younger, so his face was scarred on one side with healed burns, while the other side featured his black moustache. This was too much of a coincidence for the inmates, who were sure the cat was a reincarnation of Basil.

That was over 50 years ago. Today, we have a prison cat named Marjorie, although everyone calls her Basil. She is the fourth cat to hang around the prison since Basil died, and she still has the markings around her face that seem so similar to the mans. When the complex closed as a functional prison and the owners moved in, they tried to get rid of the cat since they have a yappy little Chihuahua. The cat just kept coming back. Still, no one has seen her leave the prison even though it would be very easy for her to get out. She just sits in the hanging yard, staring at the gallows and runs away when you try to pet her.

Of course, compared to the other paranormal stories we have here at the prison, our ghost cat seems quite tame.

Prison Life

I have already picked up another job duty here at the prison: I'm going to be a tour guide! Since I already have experience as an interpreter from Fort Edmonton, they thought I would be good at leading visitors around the place. Once I learn the script, I'll be sure to record some of the cooler stories here on my blog.

For the writing portion of my job, I'm going to be researching and writing a script for Anchorage, Alaska. I'm pretty excited about it, since it's the largest city in Alaska, and I've always wanted to go there. It's going to be weird to write about a place I've never been to though.. Here's to Google Maps!

Prison is pretty cool so far. I haven't really had trouble sleeping at night, although once people start moving around in the morning the noise travels really easily since the doors aren't really doors, and it's pretty much impossible to sleep in. That's probably a good thing though. The kitchen is fairly well stocked in terms of pots and pans, and the TV room has SkyTV and freeeeeeeee internet! Oh how I've missed mindlessly surfing the net. It's also nice that I can actually Skype and upload pictures without having to pay for it by the megabyte. My friends were having a Christmas party, and I got to see all of their beautiful faces together. Technology makes leaving home so much easier.

Napier is absolutely gorgeous. The prison is located up on Bluff Hill, so I'm about a 5 minute walk from the ocean and 10 minutes from town centre. The beach is rocky, but there's a paved walking/bike path all along it and Pohutukawa trees that are just starting to bloom. Napier was hit by an earthquake in 1931 by a 7.2 magnitude shock, so the prison is a bit misaligned in places, but the town site largely destroyed (it also killed about 150 people). The whole town was rebuilt in Art Deco style, which was popular at the time and the most cost effective way to rebuild, especially during the depression. They've kept it up too, so it feels like you're walking in the past.

However, nightlife is a little bit dull. On my first night here, we went to the Dram & Cock Pub but were one of the only groups there. It was a Friday. My second night, I went to a Reggae show with a few other inmates. The concert was put on by the Shakespeare Dub Syndicate. They were pretty good, although when we got there at 9, there weren't too many people there. Lucky for the band, the place really picked up by 11 and when we left, they were about to play their fourth set.

I should try to get a job here, but there aren't any signs posted in any storefront windows and I feel awkward walking into a place and begging for a job. To make my reservations more legitimate, Christmas and New Years are coming, so I don't know how much I'd work anyways. I might as well enjoy the holidays.

I Guess That English Degree Came in Handy After All..

In my eyes, it's a bit problematic that my first experiences of trying to do 'adult' things like find a place to live and a job to sustain me (versus one to fund my travels), has brought me to the opposite side of the world. Now I realize people do things like this all of the time with absolutely no help, but if I wanted an easier time of it with my privileged lifestyle, I could have moved out of my parents home in Northwest Edmonton and into the Whyte or Jasper Ave areas of the city so I could still go home on Sundays for dinner and laundry. But nope, I decided to come to New Zealand. After almost a month of being a tourist, I have significantly drained my bank account. While I could survive over the next while without a job, the cost of accommodation would ruin me. As I seem incapable of just figuring 'it' out when I get 'there', I spent the last week on my tour of the country scouring backpackers boards for something – anything to guarantee me of a job. I didn't find something to pay me, but I did find a work for accommodation in a prison. Yes, a prison.

I stayed in a converted prison in Ljubljiana, Slovenia two years ago that had been renovated into a bright, cheerful hostel with daily art projects in the main foyer, a shishah den at the back of the restaurant and arty, warm prison cells to sleep in. That was part of the inspiration for signing up at the Napier Historical Prison. The thing is, it's not quite as renovated as the one in Ljubljiana. Well, it hasn't been renovated at all.

Napier Prison was opened in 1862, and for the next 130 years it was open for crazy criminals to be locked up for anything from fraud to cold blooded murder. Nowadays it's just a historical prison open for tours. I've been hired on as a travel writer/researcher, where I am going to research a city somewhere in the world and write a script for an audio guide to be recorded at a later date. I guess the owners of the prison also own the Audiotour company, so they can offer people a place to stay and work for the separate company for free. Relevant to my English degree? Yup!

My new home is on Death Row in Cell 16. My cell is basically a square box that is as long as my mattress. I don't quite think the cell would comfortably sleep anyone over 6 feet tall. There are layers of peeling paint and daddy long legs in the corners of the ceiling (any other spider might bother me, but I'm sure these guys are dealing with all the really bad bugs). The only window is high above my head and covered in thick bars. I have to stand on the shelves to see out of it, and it's also the only place in this tiny room that has cell reception. The light switch is outside, and I think the bed is an original. It definitely won't help to heal the stress I've put on my back from my overweight backpack. The door is original, and since it is a prison, the bolt only locks on the outside. As one guy here pointed out, a cruel joke would be to lock me in. I don't know if I could handle that.

Still, this is my home for Christmas. I'm so stoked. I hope the novelty lasts forever.

I'm Slow

I have been back dating these blog entries so that it seems like I've been keeping up with journalling, but in reality, I haven't. My tour bus was too hectic to journal, and then I got lazy. I'm feeling a bit annoyed that I have to keep writing about the past when I want to share new and exciting things that are happening to me, so I'm officially jumping ahead in my blog posting schedule until mid December. I still plan to go back and write them, but for now, here's to living/writing in the moment!