Christmas letter 2006

As you are unwrapping your gifts on Christmas morning, we will be celebrating our one-year anniversary of immigrating to New Zealand. As expected, it’s been a grand adventure:

We arrived last year on Christmas Day and spent the next month or so finding a place to live, buying cars (for driving on the other side of the road) and appliances (with funny-looking plugs), and job-hunting for Curt.

He quickly got a job as a hydropower engineer, which has been an easy-peasey transition from his work in the hydro industry in Oregon. He's still a dam engineer. He likes it. He visits lots of dam job sites and coordinates things with the dam contractors. Really. He also likes to ride his bike to work every day, as long as he doesn’t get a puncture. He eventually resorted to bullet-proof (Kevlar) tyres. Really.

My first job as an intermediate school teacher turned out to be a major dog’s breakfast (if you can’t imagine what this phrase might mean, you’ll find the definition in the next paragraph). For instance, one day a student got angry and chucked a chair through the window and broke it (the window, not the chair). I was absolutely gob-smacked. Well, that job was making me miserable so now I have a different job as a school librarian at a posh private high school for girls. (On a side note, I never imagined myself surrounded by 1500 females, having lived with 2 brothers, then a husband and 4 sons!) Being a librarian is everything I love - books, organising, bulletin board displays, students who want to read, no grading papers and no report cards. It's a dream job. It was a struggle to leave teaching behind, though, and I may still go back to it someday. For now, I'm loving the freedom and the time that comes with NOT being a teacher, which allows me to explore and enjoy New Zealand more.

Throughout the year, we’ve tried to do some traveling around New Zealand and so far we have seen the national capital building (called the Beehive), giant kauri trees, endangered kiwi birds, stinky sulphur geysers in an active volcano area, Maori cultural performances, museums, concerts, bookstores, oodles of sheep, and tonnes of beaches. We’ve learned about ANZAC Day and Guy Fawkes Day, rugby and cricket (well … not so much about cricket). We’ve eaten pavlova (a dessert) and kumara (a sweet potato). We still manage to muck up the pronunciation of both Kiwi/English and Maori words, but we have figured out that taxes are called rates and the mailman is called a postie. We also know that wop-wops is any remote area out in the middle of nowhere, and a dog’s breakfast means a real mess. Living in a different country on the other side of the world is an exhilarating experience, constantly learning new and exciting things.

In July, we went back to visit the familiar world of Bellingham. My dad had suffered a stroke (plus 3 more since then) and I stayed for 2 weeks. For now, he’s unbelievably frail but still hanging on. My mom is a saint and is (of course) coping extraordinarily well with some assistance from hospice care, and from Austin & Nolan who both live in town and help devotedly. In addition, my brother and his family have recently moved back to Bellingham so for the most part, everything is sussed (taken care of).

While we were in Bellingham, we got to see all 4 boys and loads of old friends, which was nice. Nolan graduates from WWU in March, and he & his girlfriend will be coming to stay with us in New Zealand for 2 months. Carlin graduates from Multnomah Bible College in May and is coming out for a while. Boone started the engineering program at UW in the fall, but may change his plans and come to NZ for a while, too. That’s fine with us; we like having them around. The only one who doesn’t have immediate plans to visit is Austin, who is content in Bellingham with a good job and a long-term girlfriend.

We also bought a house in September (so we’d have room for the boys to visit) and are all moved in. We were in a small rental house before, so it feels good to be more permanently shifted; to finally unpack everything and to get sorted. (Amazingly, nothing in the container was broken when it was shipped across the ocean.) Even better, we have a real address this year so everyone can post Christmas cards to us!

Meanwhile, we found a nice church home and joined the choir and have made heaps of friends. Last weekend was our church’s big Messiah sing-along: two hundred people singing Halleluiah Chorus + soloists from the opera company + a trumpeter = a flash event. It is a little strange here to have all the Christmas music and Christmas sales going on while it's 75º out and everybody's shopping in jandals (flip-flops). But I’m not complaining.

Curt’s company closes down their entire office for 2 weeks at Christmas time, and my school will be closed for summer holiday by then, so we're flying across the ditch to Sydney Australia for a week. Christmas in Sydney will be pretty cool (actually it'll be pretty hot, but you know what I mean), especially the New Year’s Eve fireworks from the Harbour Bridge.

So while you’re toasting each other with champagne on New Year’s Eve, think of us toasting each other with champagne overlooking the Sydney Opera House. Even though we’ll actually be in Australia at the time, we’ll still be toasting our new life in New Zealand. Ultimately, it’s turned out to be a brilliant year. Cheers!

Antipodean Holidays: Halloween & Guy Fawkes Day

Being in a new country, we have to get used to different holidays. The day after we arrived, it was Boxing Day, which is not celebrated in the US. As the year progressed, we learned about and celebrated Waitangi Day, ANZAC Day, Queen's Birthday, Mother's Day in May but Father's Day in September, and Labour Day in October.
Most recently, we had Halloween on October 31 and Guy Fawkes Day on November 5:

HALLOWEEN -
Sadly, it's not a big holiday here. Many of you know how much I liked dressing up as the Energizer Bunny, wearing pink footy pajamas, and banging my drum all day at school. Good times. Plus there's all that chocolate. Need I say more? I LOVE Halloween. Our own family tradition included the Annual Pumpkin Throwing on November 1st when we lobbed the now-rotten pumpkin off the deck into the wheelie bin below. So I was disappointed to find out that nobody really does anything for Halloween. No pumpkins to carve. Nobody at school dresses up. I had resigned myself to Halloween as a non-event.

Imagine my suprise when trick-or-treaters came to my door about 6:30! Uh oh. I had nothing to give them. There were 4 cute little kids with 2 moms, and all I could do was plead American ignorance; "I was told you didn't celebrate Halloween in NZ. Sorry! I don't have anything to give you." The oldest girl, about 8, responded cheerfully, "That's OK. Thank you! Have a Happy Halloween!" She was so polite and so sincere. I felt like a heel.

After they left, I rummaged through my kitchen and found some chocolate granola bars to give away, in case more kids show up. And they did. Then more. Then I ran out of chocolate granola bars and had to resort to blackberry ones. After 16 kids, and dwindling supplies, I decided to send Curt to the local dairy (convenience store) for lollies (candy). Alas, no more kids arrived, wouldn't you know it. But still, we had more trick-or-treaters here than we had in the US in the last 5 years!

And I'm proud to say that I took the lollies to work the next day to give to student helpers so I wouldn't eat them all myself. (But I did manage to eat a few.)

GUY FAWKES DAY -
I find this holiday quite confusing. Here's what I've learned:
Back in England in 1605, Guy Fawkes and 12 other guys tried to blow up Parliament, which including killing the King and all the Lords. They didn't like the current government because they were Catholics and the government was anti-Catholic. Or something like that. It was supposed to be the beginning of a mass Catholic uprising in England.

Instead, on November 5 Guy Fawkes got caught red-handed with 36 barrels of gunpowder in the basement of the Parliament building. He was arrested and later executed.

So every year on November 5, England celebrates the failed gunpowder plot ... by lighting fireworks, bonfires, and effigies of either Guy Fawkes or the Pope(!).

Here's a few problems I have with this holiday:
1. It's not very clear if the holiday is to celebrate the plotters, or to celebrate the government who thwarted the plot. Some of the English have been known to wonder, in a tongue in cheek kind of way, whether they are celebrating Fawkes' execution or honoring his attempt to do away with the government.

2. By naming the holiday after the "bad guy" they have immortalized his name. It's a little like naming 9/11 Osama Bin Laden Day.

3. Speaking of names, it's crazy that Guy Fawkes got the holiday named after him, because he wasn't even the leader of the group! He was just the one who was caught first. The ringleader probably thought it was pretty unfair that the holiday wasn't named after him, but was named after one of his underlings instead. Of course, he was dead by then, but still.

4. Why blow things up when celebrating that you didn't get blown up? It lacks logic. It's like celebrating the day you almost died from e coli by going out and eating undercooked hamburger. I don't get it.

5. This is New Zealand. Nobody tried to blow up our Parliament in 1605. We didn't have a Paliament in 1605. This place was inhabited solely by Maoris in 1605. Australia doesn't celebrate Guy Fawkes Day. Why does NZ?

6. Mostly, this holiday appears to be an excuse to set off lots of fireworks - accidentally starting fires, causing injuries, and scaring animals. This year, the city council debated whether to ban private fireworks because the firefighters and police and hospitals are so overworked that night. This did NOT turn out to be a very popular idea!

So the fireworks continue. That's OK, I guess.
I now know a little more about Guy Fawkes. That's fine.
And I didn't singlehandedly eat bags and bags of M&Ms and Hersheys and Reeses and Almond Joys ....
That's probably good, too.

Megan

A series of unfortunate events

I feel like we've been bragging and gloating too much lately about our nice new house and cool jobs. So I thought I should share with you a few of the minor snafus we've experienced lately, just so you don't think we're living in utopia here.

1. No parking
Our choir was supposed to go to Pitt St. Methodist Church for a rehearsal with their choir one Saturday morning. It's located downtown, and we couldn't find anywhere to park. We drove around the block a few times (actually 3 blocks when you factor in the one-way streets) and finally found a place on Pitt St, only to discover that a) we didn't have any change for the parking meter and b) the parking meter takes credit cards but not debit cards ... and we didn't have the credit card with us. The parking warden stopped and talked to us and recommended a few other locations. So we got back in the car and drove arond the blocks a few more times. Finally on our 4th time around, we accidentally ended up in a turn-only lane which forced us on the motorway headed south. So we gave up and went home. So much for choir practice.

2. Getting Lost
Our choir was supposed to sing for a church member at her nursing home because she was turning 106(!). Curt and I arrived at the nursing home, which is a campus of 10 buildings and we didn't know where the singing was supposed to be. All the doors were locked and there was no office or infomation desk in sight. We didn't see anyone from choir. We didn't hear any singing. They must have been there somewhere, but we couldn't find them. After a while, we gave up and left. (Do I sense a pattern here?)
The regular choir practice was going to take place back at the church about 45 minutes later, and we had some time to kill, so we headed to the electronics store ... which was closed. Another wasted trip. (Uh oh. There's definitely a pattern happening.)
So we gave up and headed back to choir practice. We were the first ones there (everyone else was still at the nursing home having tea and cookies) and we debated whether to confess that we'd been there or to just act like we never intended to go there in the first place. I ended up confessing and getting loads of symathy, especially since it was the second time we'd missed an event recently.

3. Getting towed
Normally, I have to be at work every morning at 7:30 so it's easy to find a place to park on the street out by the school's front gate. I've never had to search for parking options on any other streets because I'm the first one to arrive every day.
Well, one day I offered to work from 12 to 7 because the usual librarian was unavailable. When I arrived at school just before noon, there were no parking places to be seen. Eventually I saw someone pulling out of a spot along the side of the school where there were 20 other cars. So I parked there and went to work.
At 7:00, I came out and my car was GONE! (as were all the other 20 cars) Had my car been stolen? I found the school security guard and we figured out that it must have been towed. Apparently the space along the side of the school was a bus zone between 2-4. Oops.
The next problem was to find out which towing company had my car. While the security guy searched for that bit of information, I went back in the library and called Curt to come and get me. All I can say is it's a good thing we have 2 cars.
I felt like crying. I was so frustrated for doing something dumb and expensive and it had been a long day. Besides, why didn't the school just call me to move my car? They have the license plates of both our cars on record just for this reason. (At least with this reasoning, I could act like it wasn't entirely my fault.)
Anyway, Curt came to get me and I finally got home about 8:00. The next morning, he took me to work, one of the other librarians (bless her heart) drove me to the tow yard, and I retrieved my car. It cost me $112 NZ = $72 US : (

In spite of these recent snafus, we still feel like we're pretty lucky - and very happy - to be living here. Let's face it, we DO have cool jobs and we DO have a nice house. Most of all, we live on a tropical island in the South Pacific!! ... Even though I probably shouldn't brag about it. Sorry.

Megan

Moving up in the World

We are now proud residents of Meadowbank: Curt got everything moved into our new house on Friday and finished by 1:30 (except the grand piano which didn't get moved until Sat). I was at work all day Friday and Curt had 3 furniture movers and a big truck. I think it was just as well that I wasn't there. That way I didn't have to watch, and I'm not much help carrying big stuff anyway. So by the time I got home from work, the bed was assembled and the living room furniture was in place. We also had the telephone & broadband guy and the cable guy at the new house on Friday so everything was hooked up and worked! That night, we went out to celebrate at an Italian restaurant on the corner which may become our favourite place. Mmmm mmmm. In Portland, we used to go to Da Vinci's restaurant. Carlin and Boone will remember it. Now it looks like we'll go to Portofino's. They do takeout food, too. Watch out.

Saturday I unpacked lots while Curt cleaned everything at the old house and supervised the piano movers. Our Samoan neighbours gave us a big bag of lemons off their tree as a farewell gift. I think we'll make fresh lemonade! As he left, Curt also grabbed the last of the grapefruits from our tree so he can make grapefruit juice one last time. In the new house, the piano fit nicely into a nook designed for a formal dining room table. It's the perfect spot. So elegant and inviting. Once the piano was all set up, Curt put all the paintings up on the walls. For most people, the paintings on the walls are the last thing done, and it's usually a symbol of completion. But for us, paintings are a much higher priority so they go up first! At least we have enough wall space in this house. Hanging the paintings makes it look like home already.

On Sunday morning I started to have problems: it was time to go to church but I couldn't find my choir music. Uh oh. I'd packed it with the other music from the piano bench and wrote MUSIC on the box because I knew I'd need it. We both looked all over the house, through the garage and everywhere and couldn't locate any box labeled MUSIC. So we headed off to church anyway. The second problem was that we hadn't been grocery shopping for a few days so there was nothing to eat Sunday morning. No bread, no milk, no cereal, no fruit. When we got to church the choir conductor's wife (who is 8 months pregnant) had baked us muffins as a housewarming gift ... and they were still hot! We opened them on the spot and pigged out. It was just what we needed until we could stop at the grocery store on the way home.

After church, Curt's main job was to get the washer and dryer hooked up.
Mounting the dryer on the wall above the washer was no easy task, and Curt requested my help – not because he thought I could contribute much muscle power, but because he needed someone to swear at while he grunted and whinged (that's a Kiwi word for whining). I dutifully provided moral support and encouragement while he practiced his potty-mouth. Next, Curt got to rest, sitting on the deck drinking coffee in the sunshine, while we started catching up on 5 days' worth of laundry. Overall, it's hard to complain much.

We've never had a kitchen this big or this nice. Remember, our house in Bellingham was big (6+ bedrooms) but the kitchen was tiny. And the kitchen in Portland was old with little counter space. Our galley kitchen in the rental house in Avondale was even smaller. But we finally have a nice, big, newer, pretty kitchen. Hurray! It's good to finally unpack china and things that I packed with Portland newspapers dated October 23, 2005 (one year ago). And nothing is broken. Amazing.

We've never had 3 bathrooms before either. Or a walk-in closet. I feel like I'm finally all grown up. And it only took 49 years.

Where we live, there's 4 houses all facing the same courtyard of driveways and I met one of the neighbours yesterday, a wonderful lady about 40, who is a hospital administrator, and moved here from Germany 18 years ago. New Zealand sure is an international place. Our 4 houses are located on what used to be train right-of-way. There's a commuter train line that runs through the gully behind our house. Apparently the train company owned 300 feet on each side of the tracks and later decided they only needed 150 feet on each side. Somebody bought the excess land and these 4 houses were added behind the existing houses that face the street. As a result, we're really tucked away from the street which is nice and quiet, but it is hard to find our address. I also love the sound of the trains going by. Listening to the choo choo trains was always my favourite part of going to a Mariners game at Safeco field. But my trains don't toot their whistle here. They're short – only 4 cars long – and quieter than freight trains. I like it.

So we're settling in. We survived another move without any major injuries to people or belongings. Oh, except we can't find our big rolling garbage can (a.k.a rubbish bin) assigned to this address. If that's the worst glitch so far, I figure we're in pretty good shape. All I need to do now is find my choir music before next Sunday.

Megan

House buying, New Zealand style

We recently bought our first house in New Zealand. During this process, we've been learning about subtle differences in the procedures compared to buying a house in the US.

Just like in America, it was pretty easy to shop for houses using the newspaper ads and internet. But their Open Houses are scheduled differently: A house would be open only from 12:00-12:45. Then the realtor would rush off to a 1:00-1:45 showing. But each house would be open Sat and Sun, week after week. So there's actually more houses available to see at any given time. In the US a house would be open one day from 1-4 and if you missed it that day, you needed to contact the realtor to see it at another time. Evidently the New Zealand system prefers the buyer to do more of the preliminary shopping themselves and to rely less on the realtor which was fine with us.

Another difference is that there's only one realtor involved and she represents the seller. There is no realtor to represent the buyer. This might seem like a conflict of interest, but because they want the house sold, they end up helping both sides. The realtor we dealt with handled our original offer, a counter-offer by the sellers, and our acceptance in 24 hours. It was relatively easy. She said, however, that different nationalities often have different styles of negotiating. For instance, Asian buyers may bicker back and forth many times over all sorts of little things, all in an effort to save face.

Overall, the process seems pretty streamlined. We put in an offer on a Thursday and the paperwork could have been completed within a few days. In fact, if both parties had wanted to, we could have taken possession of the house on Monday. In reality, we didn't want to move until the school holidays between terms so we set a date about 4 weeks in the future. But in the US, it seems like it takes 6 weeks to process even a "rush" sale.

We used a mortgage broker (who works for the realty company) to find the best rate on a home loan. Interest rates are different here, too. Even though we have a 25-year mortgage, the interest rate only is fixed for 5 years at which time you lock in a new rate (or sooner). He was surprised to hear that in America, we lock in a rate for 25 years! He asked, "What do people do if the rates go down during that time?" Our answer: Everyone re-finances. Whatever the differences, the system seems to work here because NZ has one of the highest ratios of home ownership in the world.

There's no title company/title search because the city gives out all the legal info when the house goes on the market and the realtors distribute it to interested buyers. We got a 20 page document/maps including legal description, liens, zoning, drainage, permits, assessment rates, soil issues, flood risk, wind zone, contamination, etc. Curt especially liked to read its soil report which is a civil engineer thing.

We did need to hire a barrister, however. I guess there's 2 levels of lawyers here: barristers and solicitors. Don't ask me yet which is better. I'm still learning. As far as I can tell, his job is to collect info from us and the bank, and he makes the sale legal.

At this point, we're packing boxes, arranging movers, and filling out a gazillion change-of-address forms. It seems like I just did all this a few months ago. And we need a piano mover AGAIN. Curt says that piano has been moved more times than it's been played. On a slightly different subject, we had an interesting problem with the piano keys over the winter. The glue that holds the ivory onto the wooden base of each key was disintegrating for some reason, and about 30 pieces came unglued. As I checked for more loose ones, 10 more fell off. It was weird. I don't know if it was caused by the trauma of being in a container for 8 weeks crossing the ocean and crossing the equator, or if it has to do with the humid climate here or what. Nobody seems to have heard of this phenomenon before. Anyway, we had a piano tuner come and reglue them all, but 2 more have fallen off since then. That poor piano sure had been through a lot lately. I think it misses Carlin, who was its primary user.

As for the house we chose, it's a little bigger than our rental and only 7 years old. I'd had enough of older houses needing remodeling. I wanted one that was all done and ready to live in without major work. It will also be the first house we've ever lived in that had a master bedroom suite. There's also 2 guest bedrooms (hint, hint), an office and a double garage (which in Kiwi is pronounced GAIR-idge, rhymes with carriage). In addition, this house is in a better neighbourhood, and closer to both our jobs. We'll be sorry to leave our rental's view of the water, our nice neighbours, and the convenient location. It's been a nice experience living here. But we're really looking forward to moving to our own home, and feeling more permanent. It'll be a good move.

Megan

General Update: work, house, death

Things are going well in spite of the imminent death of my father back in America.

My job is so perfect that it's hard to believe that I get paid to do this all day. Curt calls it my EASY job as in "Have a nice day at your EASY job!" My colleagues are still exceptional. I recently attended a workshop on New Zealand historical fiction, which was really helpful for me because I know lots about US historical fiction, but nothing about NZ historical fiction. Many of the titles were books that my fellow librarians grew up reading – and I am missing that background experience. So now I have loads more books on my nightstand that I want to read.

I am in charge of giving book talks to every English class that comes in for their silent reading period. All I have to do is open my mouth and the students know where I'm from. But they seem to listen attentively because they like my accent. It's funny ... I wish I could speak more Kiwi-ish and they wish they could speak more American-ish.

It is finals week at my school so the girls are studying really hard and really quietly but the library has been packed. Besides every chair and every couch being occupied, there have been girls on the floor between the shelves and in the corners. The library is a popular place!

The school is closed for three weeks between terms (Sept 16-Oct 9) but the library stays open so I still work for part of that time. It'll be a nice opportunity to get some big projects done without interruption.

In addition, Curt and I will be moving to our new house between terms so in theory I should be packing boxes right now. Ha. We started house-hunting a few weeks ago and quickly found one we like. It's a little bigger, and newer than our current rental house. Curt's looking forward to having his own yard to putter in and a jungle of potted plants on the deck. And we'll have 2 spare bedrooms and will be ready for guests soon! We are scheduled to move in Sept 30.

Amid all this, there's a constant reminder that I may be going back to America at any time. My dad is weaker and frailer but he's quite a fighter, and about the time we think he's ready to go, he rallies again. My brother and sister-in-law from Kansas City are taking turns flying back and forth to Bellingham every week to be with my mom. They're doing such a good job that it's going to make me and my other brother look bad. Oh well. I lived in the same town as my parents for 22 years (and even lived next door to them for 15 years!) so I feel like I did a pretty good job looking after my parents, too.

I'm very thankful that I went back to see them in July while Dad was still somewhat alert. At least I had a chance to say goodbye. At this point we're just waiting for the phone call from my mom telling us that he's died. I feel like I should be more emotional about his impending death, but he's been so frail since the stroke five years ago that his death is not unexpected. I guess we've all had plenty of time to prepare ourselves for it. Perhaps the emotions will hit me later.

Megan

I See Broken Glass

Time for an update on my bicycle commuting adventure. I'll admit that I haven't been as steadfast in my dedication to saving the planet by reducing the demand for fossil fuels. This winter, there were some cold, blustery rainy mornings when I just didn't have the gumption to pedal 14km to work through horizontal sheet rain, and so I drove the car instead. Even though I've wussed out more than a few times, I still manage to ride to work about four days out of five,

One of my frustrations on the bicycle is my propensity for getting flat tyres, or "punctures" as they call them here. I would get a flat tyre about once every couple of weeks. I carry extra inner tubes in my backpack and a hand pump and tools to change tubes, but it still takes at least 20 minutes to change a tube and re-inflate the tyre. Plus my hands get filthy with road grime and bike chain oil. I would have to inflate the punctured inner tube to try to locate the leak so that I could use the relative position from the valve stem to find the glass shard still lodged in the tyre. If I didn't locate the glass shard, then I would risk puncturing the new tube as soon as I re-inflated. I learned this the hard way. Aargh!

I was willing to live with this minor incovenience as long as the frquency of punctures was only once every two or three weeks. I found myself becoming quite paranoid about riding over broken glass. I never used to notice how much broken glass there is on the road before. Believe me, it's everywhere! I guess you don't see it unless it affects your life. Remember that goofy line from the movie, "The Sixth Sense" when Haley Joel Osment whispers to his therapist played by Bruce Willis, "I see dead people." Well I see broken glass, for which I've developed an acute sixth sense. If I passed over a particularly bad patch, I would stop my bike ride and carefully inspect each tyre to try pick out the embeded shards before they could do their dirty deed, those bastards.

I finally had to take drastic measures when I got four punctures in three days, two one Friday evening coming home, front and back tyres. Sheesh. One of my colleagues at work told me that they make tyres using Kevlar reinforcing which is the same material they use in bullet-proof vests. Ha! Just what the doctor ordered. I went to the Bike Barn to see if they had stocked these alleged tyres with the space age technology. Indeed they did; Vittoria Kevlar reinforced tyres using belts of dense nylon thread count, 120 threads per inch or about three or four times more dense than my regular tyres. The salesperson assured me that these would be much better at resisting punctures. At $80 per tyre I hope he's right. Steel belted radial car tyres don't even cost that much, but then they're not bullet-proof either.

I've had the new tyres now for two weeks, and I'm happy to report that I have not yet had another puncture. I'm not nearly as paranoid about broken glass anymore, although the rain still annoys me.

Curt

Librarian - week 1

I am born to be a librarian. OK, I was born to be a teacher, too, but being a librarian sure comes naturally.

As many of you know, I am addicted to 2 things: chocolate and books. So letting me loose in a library is like letting me loose in a chocolate store. (I couldn't go to Powell's Books in Portland without spending $100) So here I am all day, surrounded by books. As I process the returns, I eye each one and think "Ooh I'd like to read that." As I choose a few books for display, I think "I want to read that one." I easily find 20 books a day that I want to read, but sadly I don't have time to read 20 books a day. If only I did! I love to organise books, to line them all up evenly on the shelf, and to recommend reading ideas for both students and teachers. I am in charge of book talks for each class that comes weekly to borrow books, which is one of my strengths. I love to promote books.

Working at a library has a totally different pace to it than teaching. First of all, there's the luxury of being a trainee and operating at only 50% for the first few weeks. In teaching, you are 100% responsible for everything the first day school starts. I've never been in a job where you had time to learn, time to rummage around and find out where things are, time to explore, and people to guide you. It's strange to have time to acclimate and discover at my own pace; it's amazingly foreign to me.

The people I work with are amazing. They're patient. They explain things without making it seem like I should already know. Nobody has a prickly personality. Everyone is fun and funny. There's 5 of us librarian ladies and we're all the literate type (naturally) without being a library dragonlady who shushes kids all day and wears their hair in a tight grey bun. No, we got the giggles on Friday and couldn't stop laughing.

Besides laughing too much, we also had a balanced discussion on Friday about the merits of purchasing a book on Paris Hilton, Confessions of an Heiress. Students asked for more biographies of celebrities so the head librarians had purchased this one about Paris Hilton. The book will be popular, no doubt. The girls can't wait to read it. Does it send the wrong message to young girls? Absolutely. And here's what our debate was about: Is it the library's job to decide which messages to send? Ultimately it was decided to keep the book, but not before flipping through its pages and getting a few handy tips on how to be an heiress ("If you expect people to do everything for you, they will. It works for me.") If only there was a genre label we could affix that said IRONY instead of BIOGRAPHY.

This school is also well-funded. There's no rationing of copy paper, and the book budget is huge! Besides, the girls are exceptionally well behaved. It's such a difference compared to my last school. I recently went back and read my diary about the first week of my teaching job. Oh my. I was in tears by the 3rd day. Compared to my last experience, this place is absolute heaven! I feel like I belong here.

Rugby convert

I watched my first rugby game on TV over the weekend, and I'm sold on this sport!

First of all, I learned it's called a test or a test match, not a game. The All Blacks were playing the hated Australian national team, the Wallabies, for a GIANT trophy called the Bledisloe Cup which truly is a silver cup but it's about 3 feet high. Fortunately, the winning team captain is buff enough to lift it over his head effortlessly.

We're starting to pick up more of the rules, but are still a little fuzzy on some of them. Sometimes when there's a penalty, the other team gets to kick for 3 points. Sometimes there's a penalty and the other team gets a scrum. I'm not sure why. Anyway, I knew it would be good to watch a game and try to figure it out. But I also found myself watching the game just to marvel at it and appreciate it.

Here's some of the reasons why I love this game:

1. Just before the game, the All Blacks perform a Maori war dance called a haka. They really get themselves riled up, and it intimidates the opposing team. It's quite impressive.

2. When they run across the line at the end of the field (to score), the guy carrying the ball always slides on his belly in the grass, even if nobody is trying to tackle him. It looks like fun; like boys who can't stay out of the mud.

3. When the ball goes across the touch line (out of bounds), the play from the sidelines to throw the ball back in is called a Line Out. Here's what is so cool about it, though - the teams each LIFT a player up high to try to catch the inbounds throw. So there's about 4 guys at ground level who grab the legs (calves, thighs) of the catcher-guy so he becomes 10 feet tall. It's a little like lifts in pairs ice skating except the guy they're lifting is probably 250 pounds instead of 98. (that's why it takes 4 guys to lift him) And admittedly it's not quite as graceful as ice skating. But it's pretty phenomenal to watch nonetheless.

4. The game doesn't stop! When someone gets tackled, he has to give it to one of his teammates behind him, and everyone has to get off him and go chase the new guy with the ball. There's no huddle. No standing around for 3 minutes to catch your breath. No strategizing or calling plays or talking to the coach on the sidelines. They think on their feet.

5. These guys are tough. They are huge and strong, and they don't fall down and pretend they're hurt like soccer players do. They don't wear pads or helmets although recently some have begun taping their ears because they keep getting torn off. (in the next picture, you can see the player on the left has black tape around his head which protects his ears)

6. In spite of all that adrenaline and yes, testosterone, the game is still pretty structured and under control. There's just one ref on the field in charge of the game. He blows his whistle every few seconds to tell everyone to get off the tackled guy ... and they're already in the process of getting up anyway so it goes pretty smoothly. He calls offsides or some penalty, and nobody complains. They just line up for the kick or whatever. He's also exceedingly polite: "Line up, Gentlemen." "Step back, Sir" "Up you go." I half expect him to offer tea to the bleeding players any moment. The ref can also ask for confirmation from another official who is in charge of the videotaped replays, so if there's any question, he can get a second opinion. The overall rugby organisation even assesses penalties after the game is over: One Aussie spear-tackled a Kiwi and could have easily broken his neck. The next day, the offender was suspended for 5 games, even though there was no penalty called at the time. The fans weren't too concerned about the ref missing that illegal tackle because everyone knew it would still be dealt with after the game.

7. There's no 30 minute pre-game show from a studio that looks like it belongs in Vegas. There are no cameras during the game zooming in on the cheerleaders. There's not even much time for commercials - just halftime and injuries. There are no feature vignettes about the players visiting a children's hospital earlier in the day. There are no post-game interviews with big dumb athletes who can only give monosyllabic answers. Perhaps the New Zealand media realises that these athletes are good at playing a sport, but not necessarily good at talking.

8. And finally, WE WON! The All Blacks were down 11-20 at the half but came back to win 34-27. Not only did they win the Bledisloe Cup (which is the championship between NZ and Australia), they also clinched the Tri-Nations Cup (which is between NZ/Australia/South Africa).

PS - There's another reason why I like this game. The players don't wear saggy pants; they wear short shorts that show off their powerful thighs. They wear tight shirts that show off their physique. They're really buff and quite cute!

Megan's New Job at Dio

Here I go again. I'm starting a new job on Monday and I sure hope it goes better than the last job! I really don't think there will be a problem, considering I will be working as a school librarian at Diocesan School for Girls, a wealthy private school. Somehow, I don't expect these girls are likely to throw chairs through the window like what happened at my last school.

After I returned from the States, I applied for 4 jobs and went to 5 interviews and eventually got the job at "Dio" as they call it. One of the positions I applied for was at a public library, but I was worried it would include evenings and weekends, so I'm glad I'll be at a school library instead.

Dio is an Anglican school for 1500 girls from ages 5-18 and their parents pay thousands of dollars each year for them to attend. The girls all wear uniforms (of course) and the school recently began issuing each girl a laptop too. As you can imagine, they are far more technologically advanced than my previous school which didn't have internet or networking or a full computer lab.

In addition, this school has 5 librarians. I was attracted to the notion of being part of a team of librarians, rather than being the ONLY librarian at a school where I would be expected to know how to do everything ... because (I know you'll find this hard to believe) I don't always know everything. So this way, I can learn all about being a school librarian by working with the other ladies, and eventually I could go run my own school library if I want. Plus librarians don't have to grade papers or write report cards or plan lessons. Yea! And I'll be surrounded by books all day. Ahhh. Heavenly.

It's a bit of a relief to have a job again, although I've thoroughly enjoyed my 6 weeks of unemployment. I loved to sleep in and loll around doing nothing. But I knew I'd get bored eventually so I guess it's a good thing that I got a job. After being the cook for the last 5 years, Curt was starting to like having me home too, because I would have a hot meal waiting for him every night. But we wouldn't want him to get spoiled.

The only downside might be the commute. Dio is located in the center of Auckland, not far from Curt's work and we live in a western suburb about 11 kilometers away. But the traffic during rush hour is so slow that he prefers to ride a bike. I'm not sure what I'll do. I think he should put a seat on the back of his bike and give me a ride into town every day.

Commonwealthy Names

New Zealand is definitely a former British colony. There is an especially strong Scottish influence. As such, we've noticed different naming trends here compared to the US.

Curt works with a lot of men named Colin and Graham and Nigel. In addition, there seems to be a lot of Simons and Frasers. There's also plenty of people named Hamish and Angus, young and old. I'm afraid Hamish and Angus aren't very common names in the States. In fact, if you named your baby Hamish or Angus, your poor kid would probably be the laughing stock of the school.

Female names in New Zealand are not as distinctive except for Phillippa (or Pippa) which is common. As far as I can tell, most NZ female names are relatively similar to US female names. There's Emily and Jenny and Katie, etc. But there doesn't seem to be very many females named Tiffany or Jordan or Ashley, and there's few males named Justin or Taylor or Dakota.

Some British-sounding last names are: Doherty, Lawry, and Haworth. But I don't notice as much difference between NZ last names and US last names.

So far, all my observations have been concerning the "white" or Pakeha population. But NZ has a high number of immigrants and their names are becoming more prevalent. There's plenty of Chinese names and Indian names (the subcontinent, not Native-Americans) and a noticeable dearth of Spanish/Mexican names which I was accustomed to in the US.

There are also heaps of Maori names and Pacific Islander names that roll off your tongue lyrically. I had Maori students named Rangi, Teina, Arama, and Parai. There's beautiful Maori place names too like Papakura and Timaru and Rangitoto. Some Pacific Islanders' names can be really long and confusing for me. There's a man at church whose last name is Taule'ale'ausumai. The others at church can pronounce it, but I can't yet. Other islanders' names are easier for me such as Sapolu and Lolohea.

Of course, I'm not really pronouncing any of these names "right" whether they're Pakeha or Maori, because I say them all with an American accent instead of a Kiwi accent. But that's a whole 'nother topic.

All Black teams

New Zealand's high-profile rugby team is called the All Blacks, which has spawned many creative derivatives:
Tall Blacks - the NZ basketball team
Small Blacks - kids' fan club for the All Blacks
Wheel Blacks - NZ wheelchair rugby team (I'm not kidding)
All Whites - NZ soccer team
Black Caps - cricket team
Black Cups - barristas (making lattes, vs Australia's coffeeroos)
Black Sticks - hockey team
Black Sox - softball team
Black Cocks - badminton team
Black Magic - sailboat (America's Cup)
Black Ferns - women's rugby team
Silver Ferns - women's netball team
White Ferns - women's cricket team
White Sox - women's softball team

I have a few ideas for more team names:
• Naming the NZ Karate team would be easy - Black Belts.
• The curling team could be the Black Brooms. (if there is a curling team)
• Perhaps the polo team could be the Black Mallets or the Black Ponies.
• How about a team called Black Balls? Surely there's a "ball" team out there needing a name ... bowling maybe?
• I think the national swimming team should be referred to collectively as Black Water. That sounds ominous, don't you think? Maybe it would even help them beat those dastardly Aussies.
• The possibilities are endless. There could be Black Wickets (croquet) and Black Racquets (tennis) and maybe even the Black Holes (golf).
• While we're at it, the postal service could be the Black Mail and the store selling All Blacks memorabilia could be called the Black Market.
• Hasn't there ever been an All Black named Jack who they called Black Jack? Or one named Smith who was called Black Smith?
• Of course, for all I know, some of these names may already exist.

You probably noticed that most of the women's teams prefer to soften their image compared to the blackness of all those black teams. They go for silver teams and white teams and fern teams. (The fern is a national symbol) What I want to know is why the women's cricket team isn't the White Caps like the men's Black Caps? It seems appropriate since NZ is surrounded by so much water.

Overall, I heartily approve of New Zealand's clever team names. They're so much more creative than Team Canada or the Dream Team.

I have one confession, though. I have to admit that I do like one of Australia's team names. They call their soccer team the Socceroos. Cute.

Samoan neighbours

We were extrememly fortunate in the location of our rental house. It's on the water, and we've got great neighbours! To the left of us are 3 generations of a Samoan family. Loina (35) and her daughter Laei (14) live next door. Loina's mum (Toi), dad (Malanga), and brother (Sa'a) live in the next house. Their cat has become a member of our family too, and acts like he lives here with us.

Toi and Malanga are retired so Toi plays golf (a lot!) and Malanga loves to putter around the garden. He takes care of both his yard and Loina's and it's stunning. Naturally, he's thrilled to have Curt as a neighbour because previous renters didn't always take care of the yard, and you know how much time Curt spends mowing and weeding! Malanga also helps us identify local plants and trees. Apparently we have a grapefruit tree in our back yard, and another one that looks like it has miniature oranges. There's also a banana tree but it's too old to produce fruit or something.

Like many islanders, Toi and Malanga moved to NZ about 40 years ago. They still have a bit of an accent, but their kids and grandkids are pure Kiwi. One of the first things we learned was how to pronounce "Samoa." It's supposed to be SAM-O-uh rather than Suh-MO-uh. There is a large population of Samoans here. New Zealand is an ethnically diverse country. Here's a rough ethnic breakdown:
70% Pakeha (white people)
10% Maori
10% Pacific Islanders (Samoa, Tonga, Fiji, etc.)
10% Asian (China, India, Korea, etc.)

They invited us over for lunch one weekend back in April and fed us heaps of good Samoan food. It was really nice of them to reach out to us and to want to get to know us. Our only previous experience with Samoan culture was through our church in Portland which hosted a Samoan congregation. We often combined services with them and got to hear wonderful Samoan songs and dances, and even scripture read in Samoan.

Loina is a 4th/5th grade teacher at the same primary school she attended while growing up next door. Sadly, Loina and Laei are leaving on Saturday for 3 years in America, where Loina will be teaching in North Carolina and Laei will be finishing high school. They will have a great time but it's sad to see them go because they have been good neighbours. They bring in our mail when we're out of town, and they brought Curt some dinner after his 24-hour flight.

A few weeks ago, there was a BIG farewell party for Loina and Laei and all their friends from school, from the neighbourhood, and from the Samoan community. They rented a hall and there were probably 100 people there! The Samoan men prepared a hangi feast, cooking the food for many hours in a large pit in the ground. The food was yummy and I tried taro for the first time. They assured me it's even better when you put coconut cream over it. Mmmmm.

At the party, a couple of Loina's friends emceed a trivia contest for everyone ... and it was all based on American trivia. Well, you can imagine how happy we were that for once, we might actually know most of the answers! We were sitting at a table with more of our neighbours and they were pleased to have genuine Americans on their team. "How many states are there in the US?" "What's the title of the national anthem?" This is so easy!

Then they started playing short excerpts of old American TV theme songs. I'm afraid we weren't very much help there, but I was amazed at the theme songs our Kiwi teammates knew - Kojak, Benson, Battlestar Galctica? Overall though, our team won the trivia contest by a mile! (or maybe a kilometer?)

Next there was more entertainment: Laei entertained us with some piano pieces, and some other girls danced, and then Malanga got up to lead everyone in the final song/hymn.

Besides the good food, we had a great time, and we got to meet more of the neighbours. We felt honoured to be included.