Happy That I'm Sad to be Leaving

The day is finally here.  I'm leaving the Warwick House in search of adventure further south.  I came here out of a mild panic of a soon-to-be empty bank account, thought I'd stay 6 weeks, and have ended up staying over two months.  I feel anxious about going travelling again, which means this house has felt like home.  Even more, I was made to feel like family.  That's not something you come across every day. 

And so I say a sad goodbye to sunny Nelson and the Ferrier's and start putting on warmer layers for the south.  I have two weeks left, and I'm going to try to fill them as full as my mastercard can get.

Onwards!

Riwaka Resurgence

Rachel and a few of her co-workers from the Playhouse invited me along on a roadtrip to Golden Bay.  I gladly accepted, and we headed out towards Takaka in the afternoon. The first stop was to see the Crystal Pools.  Two of the girls from the playhouse were told by a resident stoner that these pools were seriously amazing, but seriously hard to find.  He gave them some written instructions to follow, and we were confident in our navigational skills needed to find the pools.

The first bit was fairly straight forward.  We spotted the small sign that signalled the turn off the main highway. After that, "5.9 km Rd on left, Riwaka Valley Left Branch.  Drive straight ahead - DO NOT CROSS BRIDGE!" Sure enough, we saw the sign for Riwaka Valley Left Branch and turned onto it.  Here we hit our first obstacle.  Within ten metres of turning onto the road, we had to cross a bridge.  Another review of the note made it seem as though the directions must be referring to a bridge further along since we still had 8km to go. After a few hundred metres, the road changed to gravel.  We passed a few farm houses, then some grazing cattle, and then it was just us and the road.

As we chugged along in Nico's station wagon, the path started to get a bit bumpy.  There were fences on either side of the road with signs that showed we were surrounded by the private property of Riwaka Forestry Industries.  That didn't phase us, as there are heaps of hikes and points of interest in New Zealand that require you to cut across farmland.  We hit a few cattle gates that needed to be manually opened, but that was normal too. Further along, the road was so bumpy that the ground was loudly scraping the undercarriage of the station wagon.  It had also rained recently, and the puddles were fairly deep in some places.  At first, the off-road adventure was funny.  But the road kept getting worse, and the noises coming from under the car were awful.  We were also very aware that we were well out of cell service - if the car stopped running, we'd have to walk a long way back to the main road to get help.  Nico kept driving as the rest of us began hugging ourselves with pained expressions on our faces.  After the car had a particularly prolonged painful connection with the ground, we started to get out to lighten the carriage as Nico drove over the dips and hop back in on the other side.

We finally came to the first place we were able to turn the car around.  Rachel suggested we walk the rest of the way.  Nico looked at his odometer and said he didn't want to walk the last 4km, and was willing to keep driving.  So we kept going for about 400 more metres when the road abruptly ended.  We got out of the car to look around, and Rachel suddenly pointed out where the tire tracks continued- on the other side of the river.  Welp. A+ for effort. We tried. Time to turn back.

Nico had to drive in reverse down the narrow, horribly uneven road with mud and pools of water threatening to trap the car everywhere.  Once we got out of the forest, things started to become horribly funny.  We started to point out to eachother, with the clarity of hindsight, all the glaring signs we had missed or ignored.  These were things like how the road was obviously only made for tractors, or the multiple signs along the road with phrases like "Private property" or 'Multiple Hazard Areas".  We also had squeezed past a fallen tree that was laying across the road.  Best of all: we had crossed 3 bridges on our way to the middle of nowhere.

Rachel quietly pushed the paper with directions to the back seat to confirm that we had misread them: we hadn't realized that the directions only wanted us to use Riwaka Road Left as a marker.  We were supposed to continue past, driving, as the note says, straight ahead.

When we finally got back to the main road, we drove down the nicely paved path to the well-signed carpark full of other tourists.  The car-wrecking adventure was worth it. The water really was crystal clear, and ran over quartz rock that was surrounded by mossy green boulders and forest.  New Zealand, you've outdone yourself yet again.

Election Day

For the first time in decades, the provincial government of Alberta was not guaranteed before the citizens actually voted in the 2012 election.  Oh, Alberta.  The Texas of Canada. The land of the cowboy redneck.  The province that gushes money as readily as oil.  It stands for so many things I am against, but it is still home.

The only thing that could possibly take over the permanent PC conservative government here would be a MORE conservative government.  This ridiculous prospect has manifested itself as 'The Wild Rose Party'.  Early media reports showed that the Wild Rose was a joke - a party made up of fundamentalist Christians, climate change deniers, and supporters of removing rights from minorities.  So as the election drew nearer, it was very surprising (although it shouldn't have been) that the WRP was doing well in the polls.  In an election like this one, I wanted to make sure my vote was counted as a non-supporter of these principles.  So, a month before election day, I applied for a special ballot, had one sent here, proudly voted non Wild Rose, and sent it back to Edmonton. And then had to wait for the rest of the province to catch up. 

Today was election day, and Facebook was abuzz over the possibile outcomes. Normally when an election happens, I plant myself in front of the TV when the polls close and sit there for the rest of the night, watching the results come in and talking to my friends about our triumphs and failures in this lovely democracy. I obviously couldn't do that here, but at 2 PM I was refreshing election results on my computer and texting back and forth with people from Alberta. I probably would have done this all evening, but at 3, Rachel came into town and the pull of sunshine was too strong.  We headed to the beach while my friends continued to update me via text.  Rachel was playing a mix of happy music out of her portable speakers, and as we pulled into the parking lot, news came through on my phone: Wild Rose did not get a majority, they did not even get any seats north of Red Deer.   Even better, Edmonton was dotted with various parties other than the PC standby.  I was feeling amazing. The Flaming Lips “The Yeah Yeah Yeah Song" came on the mix, and we ran/danced up over the boardwalk to the beach, singing along and running to meet the ocean. I felt like I was in a movie.  The sun was shining, the temperature was perfect, I was splashing around in a tank and shorts in the middle of April, dancing like a mad woman on the beach, and politics at home weren't as depressing as usual. Life is good.

Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah.

Victory Pose

My Sexy Ride

Jenny and Nick, as stereotypically generous Kiwis, let woofers borrow their van.  The van is quite large, and at first I was a bit intimidated by the double whammy of driving such a large vehicle on the other side of the road.  My fears were unfounded though, as my comfort in driving around Nelson makes it seem as though the van and I have been together for years.  I zoom around town in my sexy diesel ride and accelerate and deaccelarate with slothlike efficiency.  Heavy groceries? You just have to carry them out to the parking lot.  Want to go to the beach that is a 45 minute walk away? Drive there in 5 minutes! Your friend found a job a 30km out of town? Go ahead and see her!

But my time with the green bullet is coming to an end, which means all of you reading this in Canada should be very, very afraid for my return to driving on the right-handed side of the road.  Which side of the steering wheel is for wipers and which side is for signal light again?

Fruit Trees

If I ever own a house with a large yard in a temperate climate, I am going to fill it with fruit trees.  I really don't know how I'm going to cope this summer in Edmonton when the only fruit that grows in my backyard is apples.  And they only ripen in late August. 

Here in Nelson, I have been able to enjoy nashi pears, tangellos, feijoas, apples, lemons, avocados, and walnuts all straight from the tree. These in turn have been turned into gelatos, dessert crumbles, freshly squeezed juice, and guacamole.  On ground level, there is an abundance of spices like bayleaf, parsley, and rosemary growing everywhere.  It's also a nice treat that even though we're well into autumn, there is no frost and the garden in the back is still producing tomatoes, zucchini, and lettuce.

Buying these things in a supermarket is just not as fulfilling.  Edmonton, why must you insist on being so far north?! 

Shoeless

Sometimes I think I could have been born a Kiwi. I have fallen in love with their easygoing natures, love of the outdoors and being active, and do it yourself mentality. Of course, that doesn't even begin to cover my love affair with the country itself, with its rolling green hills, tropical rainforests, staggering mountain peaks, and boundless coastline. It also helps that the latitude in this country creates a climate that is a lot more forgiving than Edmonton. When it comes down to it though, I haven't felt a pull so strong that I would want to spend the rest of my life a 14+ hour plane ride from all my friends and family back home. So Canada still has my heart.

Despite all this, there is one thing I know I'm really going to hate going back to when I come back home: wearing shoes.

I have never particularly liked shoes or even socks, although winter forces me to keep my toes warm in them. In the summers, my feet are generally calloused and the skin is perfectly thick, ready to walk over anything without too much trouble. When I worked at Fort Edmonton, my bare feet were hidden underneath my floor-sweeping 1885 era dress. My co-workers shook their heads. When I was studying in HUB mall and got a bit peckish, I would head to the nearest food shop without bothering to put my shoes back on. The other students in the building did double takes all over the place. But here in New Zealand, sans shoes is the natural state of being—to the point where half the people in the grocery store are walking around the supermarket in their bare feet. This hasn't been practical for me since I generally have to walk at least 10 minutes to get to the nearest store, but today I was driving the van home and stopped at the supermarket.  I ditched my shoes under the gas pedals, and proudly walked into the store.  My conversion into a Kiwi is almost complete. 

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. 

Singing Our Multicultural Hearts Out

As annoying as the Disney corporation can be, I still grew up watching all the films and memorizing all the songs like all the other kids in my class.  I have quite a few memories of breaking into rousing renditions of Disney songs over the years while hanging out with friends – everyone always joins in, even if just for the chorus. The other day I was walking home with my co-workers Marie-Louise and Pinja when Pinja started humming a song from Beauty and the Beast. I recognized it immediately and started singing along.  She joined me, but after a second I realized she was singing in Finnish and was harmonizing with me in a different language. It didn't take Marie-Louise long to join in, showing off her Swiss mult-lingual skills by singing songs in both German and Italian. Oh Disney, who knew you'd provide such a cultural experience.

Warwick House

As luxurious as the swimming pool at Paradiso was, the busy nature of the backpackers really was not something that attracted me longterm. It wasn't going well on the job front, so in a rather depressed, desperate state, I scrolled through the Backpacker Board website to see if anyone was hiring a backpacker to work for accomodation. There was an unnamed “Historic B & B” looking for a house keeper, so I gave the number a ring and spoke to Jenny. She didn't need anyone for right now, but since I was already in Nelson, she told me to come in for an interview the next day.  She gave me an address and the name - Warwick House, and told me to look it up online before I came.

The house is one of the oldest in Nelson – it was built in 1854, and received numerous renovations and add-ons throughout its time.  In 1941 it was turned into apartments, and stayed that way until 2003 when the owners (Jenny and Nick) purchased and renovated it into a bed and breakfast. I don't think I can describe this place with any justice, so you should check out the website.  When I got there I immediately called it a mansion, but in it's glory days before some wings were torn or burnt down it was known as 'the castle'.  Living in a castle? Even better.  Jenny said she liked me, but wouldn't need any extra help until the second week of March. I thought I could find something to do until then, and left the interview feeling good.  Later that afternoon she texted me saying one of her workers decided to leave early, could I start a week earlier? Yes! To make things even more sweet, a few days later she texted back and said they had a free room and did I want to move in tomorrow? Win!

After running around trying to impress people enough to hire me, the simple, no BS interview/acceptance of this job was really refreshing. So here I am! For right now, I get my own room, free breakfast, use of a bike, and the chance to tell people I live in a castle. I might even be able to borrow a vehicle.  My job will mainly be servicing the rooms, although apparently I will also be painting, gardening, and whatever other odd jobs may pop up. Feeling good about this.

Nelson

When I originally came to New Zealand, I hoped that a introductory tour of the country would inspire me to fall in love with some town or place, where I would return and happily find a job and settle down for a while. Naturally, I fell in love with the whole country and when the time came for Chantal to go home, I still didn't know what to do. I ended up getting the travel writing job in Napier, so my path was set. Near the end of my time there, I knew I had to pick somewhere new to settle down, so I stared at a map of the country and eventually settled on Nelson. The first time I had been through Nelson, it was a Sunday so everything was closed and I was a bit underwhelmed. Still, my cousin Patrice had chosen to settle here when she came to New Zealand so I felt that there had to be some kind of potential. And I'm glad I did. Nelson sits fairly close to the top of the South Island, and it is a short water taxi ride away from the world renown Abel Tasman National Park. It is the second largest congregation of hippies in New Zealand after the Coromandel, and has a large art scene. However, my favourite two qualities of this town are that it is both the craft beer capital of New Zealand and the sunshine capital. In rainy rainy New Zealand, sunshine is a hot commodity.

So my searches on job boards were narrowed down to Nelson, and now that I am here I have no regrets. The town has a population of about 40 000 which gives it an intimate feel (although there are about 80 000 in the whole Tasman region). It's nestled in a valley that is surrounded by large hills on one side and ocean on the other. The local beach is made of golden sand, and the downtown core is architecturally attractive and pedestrian friendly. There is a Saturday market to rival that of large cities and there is always a venue playing some sort of live music playing somewhere in the city.

I haven't found a job here yet, but I'm reluctant to go chase employment somewhere else when there is so much going on here, and I still haven't made it out to Abel Tasman.  Basically what I'm trying to say here is yay Nelson!

Paradiso

I came to Nelson with the exciting prospect of two job possibilities.  The first was working in the farming industry as a fruit maturity tester.  I don't really know what that means either.  When I got to Nelson, I found out I'd need to buy a car (a fact that wasn't advertised on the job description) and they were thinking about giving me a different job within the company.  I wasn't feeling good about going through with the job, so I turned it down.  The other job possibility was as an intern at a publishing company.  I applied for fun in early January, never expecting that I could get the job.  In the beginning of February, I got a call back.  I went for an interview, but didn't end up getting the job. My 'working holiday visa' stamps me with an unfortunate transient status that may have worked negatively in my favour, so I've decided to take it as a compliment to my resume that I was interviewed at all in the first place.

So what have I been doing?  Well, living in paradise.  Nelson is home to Paradiso Backpackers, an above average hostel that offers a fairly cheap bed, free breakfast, and free soup at 6PM every night.  It also features a beautiful big blue pool that is perfect for Nelson, which is the sunshine capital of the country.  In these last days of summer, it is still very warm.

After 3 months of being unemployed in New Zealand, I really do need to start getting the 'working' part of my working holiday visa under order.  It's a bit rough, but in the mean time, I have spent my days in Nelson travelling through the adventures found in novels, sun tanning, and basically taking a vacation from my vacation.  At night there are always travellers gathered in the common area ready to meet new people and have a few drinks which is nice.  Even better, my room is far enough away from the common room that I generally have a good nights sleep.

I have to say, life in Paradise isn't too shabby.