Technology is Weird

Before I came to New Zealand, I bought myself the best present I could ask for: an unlocked smart phone.  I have never travelled with a phone before, and as much as I like being a free agent while I travel, the phone was necessary for connecting with potential employers.  Turns out it has also been the perfect way to connect with home.  I can text, call, skype, email, facebook, etc. all for free (or really really cheap).  

But I didn't really notice how dependent I had become on my phone until my friend Cayley went to Madagascar for a month over Christmas.  When she was in Edmonton, we texted every day.  Without her phone, I was suddenly lost as to who to share my pointless thoughts with.  Luckily, she came back and things went back to normal.

I am feeling a bit lost again this week.  My parents have gone to Cuba for spring break, and despite the fact that they are physically closer to me, I am completely cut off from talking to them.  I don't have anything to say, but I am aware that they are not just a phone call away.  Imagine what it would be like to travel before the internet. *shudder*

March Fest

One of the big yearly festivals in Nelson is March Fest, where all the main microbreweries create a special brew to bring Nelsonians together for beer and live music. When I bought my ticket, Jenny suggested that I see if they were hiring for the day. I gave my name to the pub in charge of putting the festival on, and to my delight, I got a job as bartender. (And sold my ticket to Marie Louise).

Despite Nelson being the sunshine capital of New Zealand, the Saturday of Marchfest was rain, rain, and more rain. I arrived at the park at 11, already dripping wet from riding my bike there. I chose the outdoor booth with the thought that if we switched up shifts, I'd get to go inside when it got cold that night. It turned out to be my bar for the whole day, and bonus! It kept in heat naturally. My shift partner was a fun, cheerful English guy named Dan who helped everything go smoothly.

The rain kept people away in the early afternoon, and we danced to the music playing on the stage 20 metres away, sampled all the beers, and chatted about travelling. By 3, the crowds had showed up in full force and we had a lineup 50 people long for the next five hours. I have never bar tended before, and it was interesting to see people of all ages and types absolutely wasted. One woman had grown up in the Okanagan in BC, and when she found out I was Canadian, stepped back in shock for a few seconds, and then insisted on giving me one of those awkward high fives where she grabbed my hand and wouldn't let go. It was funny at first, but the next time she came back to the bar, found out I was Canadian, stepped back in shock for a few seconds, and then insisted on giving me one of those awkward high fives where she grabbed my hand and wouldn't let go. After her fourth return to the bar, she remembered who I was but wanted to talk about maple syrup and hockey despite the long line of people behind her.

We spent the last hour of our shift checking out the festival grounds, catching the last few songs of Alabama 3, and drinking cider. I ended up working over 10 hours at the festival, which resulted in my first glorious paycheck in four months. Money aside, the whole experience was definitely well worth the raisin fingers and wet clothing that made me feel like I'd been in a bath all day.

Beers of Marchfest

St. Patrick's Day

I don't normally go out and celebrate St. Patrick's Day.  The first time I had green beer was last year when my classmates spontaneously got together after class.  This year, I thought it would be cool to see what New Zealand did for the Irish Holiday, but by nine o'clock I was still in the house, mindlessly scrolling through Facebook.  In a combined effort, Pinja and I decided we really should do something, so we kicked our butts into gear, got some nice clothes on, did our hair, and walked into town.  Our first stop of the night was the Sprig & Fern, which is a local brewery that has no less than 13 handcrafted beers and ciders on at a time.  It's one of our favourite pubs in town, and of course, it was packed.  After a half an hour of sitting by ourselves, I finally got the (perhaps liquid) courage needed to introduce us to a group of Kiwis sitting beside us.  Pinja and I have both been annoyed with our lack of ability to meet locals.  The Warwick House is a nice place to live, but it can be really isolated at times, so we had made it a challenge to meet someone.   And I'm glad I went out of my comfort zone to do so.  After a few minutes of normal awkward introductions, we were moved into the group.  Turns out we were sitting beside a group of lawyers who liked buying rounds of beer.  Normally I feel uncomfortable with people buying me drinks, but hey, I'm a penniless backpacker and aren't all lawyers supposed to be millionares?

Anyways, we spent the evening socializing in the Sprig until it closed, at which time we moved on to 'Elsewhere' Club to dance the alcohol off.  Pinja and I didn't get home til 3:30.  I thought it was closer to 2.  Having no concept of what the time is is always an indicator of a great night.

Oh, and all the lawyers were dressed up for the occasion, and didn't seem to mind me going home with their costumes, which was easily the biggest success of the night.

Happy St. Patrick's Day!

Trolley Derby

Today, Collingwood Street was closed down for the annual Trolley Derby.  Trolleys are the Kiwi equivalent of a Soapbox car, which played a large part in my childhood in the form of the classic film "Little Rascals".  It was fun to spend the afternoon watching kids of all ages race down the hill in their homemade box on wheels, and reminisce back on "I've got two pickles, I've got two pickles! I've got two pickles, hey hey hey hey!"  There was hay lining the sides of the road for the inevitable crashes, but my favourite part was a trolley lost momentum 10 metres from the finish line and the kid just sat there holding the wheel until an organizer came and pushed him to the end.  The cheering for him was the loudest. It may not have been the most exciting afternoon I've ever had in New Zealand, but it was nice to feel like a local.

DIY

I have been able to cook from a young age. Both of my parents know how to whip a meal together, and I took the Foods option in school from grade 7-12 (Hello? Free food? Why wouldn't you take it?).  Still, I usually don't do a lot of intense cooking, and I blame this on pure laziness.  Apart from from the occasional cupcake or chocolate chip cookie craving, I don't bake very often.  Dinners I make for myself usually consist of pasta and whatever sauce is around. It helps that when I am home, I have 3 other people in the house who make well-rounded, delicious dinners and baking so my cravings are satisfied.  Here in New Zealand it is just me, myself, and I. One of the best parts of living here is access to a full kitchen. Baking and cooking always require small amounts of ingredients that come in large bottles, or kitchen instruments that you never find in a hostel kitchen. Warwick House has inspired the chef within. We offer a plate of cookies to guests when they check in, so some days I have spent my working hours baking for accomodation. Shortbread, chocolate almond drops, gluten-free cookies, you name it, I'll bake it.

Jenny heard about the Easy-Yo Yogurt maker from a friend, where you can make yogurt yourself using water and some powder that you buy in a grocery store. It halves the cost of buying a ready made container in the store. My curiousity had me open the box first and try the first batch.  Since then, I have become resident yogurt maker.

The wonderful latitude here in New Zealand means there are a lot of fruit trees around. There is a lemon tree in the front yard, and since Jenny had some white wine that was going bad, I made lemon gelato. There is a Nashi Pear tree out at the beach house, which produced bags and bags of the fruit. We brought them home one day and Jenny wondered aloud what we should do with them all.  Channelling my mom's delicious dessert spirit, I offered to make a crisp. Jenny said yes, and after the first dish was devoured, I made four more for the hungry house.

Occasionally, the Warwick House hosts a high tea in their ballroom. We had one last week and I was on scone duty. I had made the occasional scone out of Bisquick in my youth, but I can't remember ever making them from scratch. My trial bake produced tasty scones, but they were a bit too small. The scones on the day of the High Tea were, according to Jenny, perfectly raised, perfectly fluffy, and perfectly browned.  I will add this skill to my CV.

I also have a job to help out a family who is friends with Nick and Jenny.  I go over for a few hours a week to help with cleaning and watching the kids.  The mom is Jane, and she leaves recipes out for me tackle, so I've been cooking even more.  Meatloaf, blueberry muffins, dahl, cauliflower bake.. I can do it all.
I am really hoping to keep this energy going for when I come home again.  It's nice to run out to the garden and grab fresh spices like parsley, bayleaf, and rosemary.  I'm still a bit useless at gardening, but I want to try to motivate myself to learn more about it for this summer in Edmonton.  I'm also half tempted to follow in Jane's footsteps and install a chicken coop in my backyard.  Fresh eggs anyone?

Alive in Nelson

Not having a lot of money usually leads me to avoid places that tempt my wallet.  This makes spending my afternoons at the B & B attractive, or going for walks in the woods, or generally avoiding downtown shops.  Usually when I do go to town it's to go out to the grocery store and back again. But today is Saturday, which means the Market is on, and I just can't resist those cheap, perfectly ripe, organic fruits and veggies, not to mention drooling over beautiful handmade clothing I cannot afford (and don't have room for).

Anyways, after my shift, I walked over to the market. Compared to the quiet street the house is on, downtown Nelson was full of people, and the energy was flowing. The sun was shining bright, there were musicians playing in the street, and people were eating and drinking out on patios everywhere.  The market square was packed, and at times it was difficult to maneuver around everyone.  I felt recharged by going into town, and as I thought about what made the afternoon so special, I realized that it was a feeling of community that I often find lacking in Edmonton.  Markets always inspire me to try harder to DIY, whether that be a recipe, jewelry, or clothing.  This one was no exception.  The musicians made me want to pick up and learn an instrument.  And the amount of people strolling around made me reluctant to go back to the house and drop off my purchases.  Maybe you can find this intimacy in some of the tighter knit communities of Edmonton, but I never do.  In Nelson the sense of community is everywhere, and I wish I could take this feeling home and help it blossom. 

Decisions Decisions

When I originally purchased my flight to New Zealand, there was a seat sale that allowed for a 6 month trip to the country. I decided to jump on it, because if I wanted to come home in 6 months, I'd get a cheaper ticket, and if I decided to stay, well, I would be ready to upgrade my ticket. When I first got here, I immediately wanted to stay as long as possible. But starting in late January, I started thinking about coming home for a triple summer. (Did you catch that? Triple summer) Anyways, after weighing pros and cons, listening to my gut, ignoring my gut, being logical and then emotional, I have decided to come home after 6 months to save up money for.. you guessed it, more travel.

Because I want to come home in three months, I only want a job for two months. Because I want a job for two months, no one will hire me. I have poured over the job boards and not been successful, and as the weeks have gone by, I am now going to be gone from Nelson in less than two months. So I have given up.   I have found a few odd jobs here and there that give me money for groceries and the occasional activity, but a real deal pay cheque is not in the works. I'm okay with this, because I know I can go back to my old job when I return to Edmonton and will eventually start filling my bank account instead of draining it.  Also, I first decided to go home and then couldn't get a job, so I don't feel too defeated.  In a perfect world I would stay here for a year, but as it is, the call of other countries is too strong and I guess I can “deal with” a beautiful summer in Edmonton, hanging with friends, heading to the mountains, going to festivals, and enjoying the prairie thunderstorms that are sorely missing here.

Bugs

I have never really been afraid of insects and other creepy crawlies, although things with more legs than I can count straight away have always freaked me out a bit. I am used to the bugs in Edmonton who have to be strong enough to somehow survive the 8 months of frigid winter. This lovely period of cold that I usually hate seems nice now that I am here in New Zealand, where it may be green all year round, but that means the bugs have the whole year to grow and make me squirm that much more.

My least favourite are the cicadas. These little buggers are absolutely everywhere outside, and although it may be hard to see them blending in with the trees, their endless vibrating clicks drive me up the wall. Sometimes when I'm reading or just sitting outside, I will suddenly realize I am grinding my teeth to the beat of their sound. I actually didn't know what they looked like for weeks until I got to the Warwick House, and they started to fly around. They don't really like humans, so only the rare one has landed on me, but the noise noise noise! It's hard to imagine that I will get used to them eventually.

This one is actually dead, I couldn't have gotten so close otherwise

One bug that I was a bit excited to see in New Zealand was the praying mantis. These bugs are crazy. After the female mates, she bites the head off the male. I have seen quite a few of the mantis' here,  but there are a lot more Daddy-Long Legs who like to build webs in the corners of the rooms I clean.  Usually I just lift my vacuum up and suck them down. One day I found a fully grown praying mantis sitting on top of the shower. As always, I raised my vacuum hose and ran it over the bug. I may like you when you're outside, guy, but you really can't be in my territory. When I pulled the vacuum away, the praying mantis was still there. I tried again. And again. It just sat there, staring at me. I realize the bug probably has little to no brain, but I swear it was shaking its head and saying “Nice try sweetums, now please aim that vacuum elsewhere, I'm comfortable.”

Baby Mantis!

I was sitting downstairs in the living room one evening when I saw something black move out of the corner of my eye. I thought my mind was playing tricks on me until I saw a giant 8 legged creature finish his trek across the room. It went under the curtain, so I tried to put it out of my mind until the spider started to move again. I weighed my options. If I left it where it was, it might crawl up on me which was something I was not keen to risk. If I killed it, there would be spider guts all over the carpet which I really didn't want to clean up. The only solution in my mind was to trap it in an empty pasta jar. Success! With a few millimetres of thick(ish) glass between us, I was not afraid to examine my new friend who I had named Humphrey. After a necessary Facebook post about the spider, my brother came up with a link to identify New Zealand Spiders. I think it's a Nursery Web Spider. When Jenny came home the next morning, and she said it was a harmless wood spider who liked eating mosquitos. That was enough of a reason for me to keep it alive. I opened the top of the jar and tossed it far into the woods that surround the house. It was nice knowing you Humphrey, but please don't come back.