Life

Life / Lists / Travel — 7 Comments
17
Mar 08

Auckland: Initial Observations

I have officially been a JAFA for precisely 16 days now. It’s starting to feel a bit more like I actually live here, instead of how it has been feeling which is that I am housesitting for someone with all my stuff and my cat, and that I am temping in someone else’s job. It’s quite an odd feeling really, and I feel like I am going to go “home” to Wellington any day now.

Things to note:

  • Auckland is very muggy. I live no more than a 15-minute walk to my new job and start at 8:30am each day. For the first two weeks I would walk not entirely too strenuously because at 8:15am it already muggy and hot. I arrive at 8:27am, grab my water bottle and take some swigs of yesterday’s water, take it to the cooler to refill it, and then go to the bathroom to run my wrists under cold water and daub my forehead and upper lip with a paper towel. In 2002 I coined the phrase, “There’s a rivva in my boobies,” and sadly the rivva has returned.
  • The coffee is terrible. I have not had a single good cup of coffee in Auckland. Everyone’s beans taste burned and bitter, and lattes arrive thin and watery, to the point I would consider going to Starbucks out of preference. That is deadly sin in Wellington, the land of delicious coffee.
  • Everything is very far apart. No longer can I waltz down to the post office at lunch, or quickly grab some new stockings when the ones I’m wearing run, or wander around Farmers looking at cheap make-up and new hair straighteners. I don’t work in the city centre, rather in one of the closest suburbs which although very nice is overrun with stupidly expensive clothing boutiques and many cafes selling crappy coffee. And because Auckland is so large and sprawling, everywhere seems to be a destination shop. A 20-minute drive to Briscoes, a 25-minute drive in another direction to go to Freedom Furniture, and a short drive into town for a lot of other stores that you would want to shop at if it were not a requirement to try for a ridiculous amount of time to get a car park. Perhaps I will be needing a car after all, and my poor little Vespa will need to be sold. That is as yet undetermined.
  • The shopping and eating choices are never-ending and fantastic. Being in a city that is 3.5-times the size of Wellington of course the shopping is going to be better. There are so many great little boutiques (that I can’t afford but can wish) and lots of stores Wellington just doesn’t have. There are loads of new restaurants to choose from, and a lot more delicious Asian foods to try which is a wonderful by-product of having a larger Asian population in the warmer north.
  • The houses are way prettier. At least in the area I live in. In Wellington, the areas with the beautiful historic Victorian villas have had many demolished to make way for hideous townhouses and apartment blocks. Instead in Ponsonby and Grey Lynn, most of these are being restored to their former beauty. I love going for walks in my neighbourhood just so I can look at the houses and dream that one day I am going to win the lottery that I never enter so I can afford to own a home in a suburb such as thing. However, chances are that it will never happen.

So, I’m getting along alright up here. I miss my family and I miss Wellington (good days only), but I’m sure it won’t be too long before I start replying with “Grey Lynn” instead of “Wellington” when people ask me where I’m from.

Life — 2 Comments
2
Mar 08

I’ve Arrived

Two days of unpacking, more left to go. My room is all set up, my cat is out of the cattery, and my new job starts tomorrow. I am exhausted.

Life — No Comments
24
Feb 08

When Owning Shit Goes Wrong

I have been packing solidly for two days now, although I did do a bit three nights ago as well. So far I have packed 23 boxes, with an estimated 9 more to go. This does not include the rest of the stuff the movers will be picking up: 3-seater couch and ottoman, armchair, dining table and 4 chairs, 2 bookcases, rug, coffee table, desk, dressing table, queen bed frame and mattress, ironing board, 2 drying racks, 2 mirrors, and 4 deck chairs. That does also not include the rather large suitcase I am taking on the plane, my camera gear, and my cat. That is all entirely too much stuff for one person.

During my overseas travels I managed to keep my entire life’s possessions down to two suitcases. That was it. Every time I moved I sold or gave everything away. Now I’m a little older, less hesitant to move countries “permanently” at the drop of a hat, and less willing to give up the couch I love sitting on so much, the rug I searched all over town for, the white china dinner sets, the white towelling sets. I have become the narrator from Fight Club and all I need is a massive gas explosion to set me free from my life of material ownership.

But sans explosion, I am stuck here in my house, wrapping things in newspaper, washing dishes, clearing cupboards, and cursing having all the things I wished I had when I went flatting again with not much more than a suitcase of clothes two years ago. I have one day to finish. With all this work left, I might as well give up and go back to watching True Hollywood Stories for a little bit longer.

Life / Travel — No Comments
23
Feb 08

Moving, Again

On Tuesday I am once again packing my life into boxes and moving cities. This time, Auckland. Again, I am taking Goblin. The movers will come and take my life’s possessions (although I have managed to collect more possessions in the two years I’ve been back in Wellington than the five years I was overseas) and then Gobbles and I will catch a plane. She is such a seasoned traveller. People often remark that she has lived in more cities and countries than most humans. This is true.

In a week’s time I start my new job at a software company in Ponsonby. I will have moved into my new flat in Grey Lynn. The wankicity of having purchased a brand new Vespa with an Italian-designed Momo helmet in 2006 will be realised when I then scoot over to my boyfriend’s house, to Richmond Road Cafe, to the supermarket, to the video store on Ponsonby Road.

In a week’s time, I will already be missing my sister and her children (6 and 5-months, both absolutely adorable) and her daily phone calls to me at work that always start with her saying, “Hi. It’s me. What are you doing?” and me replying, “Working!” will cease as these will now be toll calls. I will miss having weeknightly dinners with my flatmates in front of 72″ of Shortland Street. I will miss games nights with Jake and Carly, because they are silly and make me laugh lots. I will miss chin-stroking at gigs with Cole. I will miss the good days in Wellington, where the saying goes that you can’t beat it.

This aside, I am also really quite excited. I love going to new places, especially places where I don’t know every second person and their cousin I went to school with. I am looking forward to not having quite as aching joints in winter (yes, I really am getting old), I am looking forward to rain that doesn’t fall sideways, I am looking forward to the thousands of new cafes and restaurants I get to experience. And I am most definitely looking forward to having a boyfriend I see more than once every fortnight.

I will never be Just Another Fucking Aucklander, as they say. I will always be from Wellington, and Wellington will always be my home, a place I know like the back of my hand. But Auckland will soon be my sixth home, after Wellington, Austin, Houston, Manchester, and Antwerp. And I’ll definitely continue to make it south of the Bombay Hills and beyond.

Life / Lists — No Comments
14
Feb 08

Happy Love Day

Almost a year ago I met an amazing guy called Duncan and fell in love. It was like nothing I had ever experienced before, and I was completely head over heels. I remember the first time I realised I was in love with him as clear as it was yesterday; lying in his bed next to him watching him look at me, trying to take a mental photograph of his beautiful eyes (greenish/blue-gray with yellow around the pupil) and thinking to myself how wonderful he was and how he made me feel like no one had ever before. I felt like my heart was quite literally going to explode in my chest. It took some time for me to get the courage up to tell him how I felt, but it wasn’t hard because I was sure he felt the same about me.

The last year has truly been the best year of my life, and I have never been so happy. Sometimes I feel like I have to pinch myself to check that I am not having some super awesome romantic dream after watching a stupid and cheesy Hollywood rom-com. In the past year we have:

  • Danced to Shapeshifter outdoors on the first weekend we met, followed by another time, and then another time
  • Been chased by rabid Tongan dogs while riding pushbikes
  • Gone on a surprise weekend away to a secluded bach, courtesy of Duncan
  • Visited the biggest tree in New Zealand
  • Introduced each other to our families with no dramatic consequences
  • Travelled to a 5-day drum and bass festival for New Years where Duncan DJed, requiring me to wake at 5am, which I did because I love him and his lush beats
  • Day-walked the start of the Abel Tasman track
  • Seen a whale
  • Conducted a failed Tongan kava ceremony in the bathroom of our fale on Fafa Island
  • Gone shopping for jeans together no less than 28 times
  • Taken photos of each other “levitating” while jumping on a trampoline, resulting in me acquiring a bung knee
  • Become frequent flyers and professional travellers
  • Quite obviously danced to lots of drum and bass together

I have also become completely smitten. I have had so much fun, and can’t wait for all the fun 2008 will bring. Baboo, you are the best thing to ever happen to me. Happy Valentine’s Day!

Life / Rants — 2 Comments
27
Jan 08

Largely, People Are Retards.

The other day on my way home from work, I was waiting at an intersection for the green man to give me permission to cross. It was rush hour and people were trying to squeeze the most out of the amber lights as possible, which of course means cars stuck across the intersection when the light finally turns red. A woman had stopped her car right on the crossing in front of me, with some cars pulling up behind her. A guy on the other side of the road sensed she wouldn’t be moving, and as the green man flashed at us he proceeded to cross behind her stuck car. At this moment, she suddenly started reversing without checking her mirrors, almost hitting the guy crossing. He jumped back and then walked in front of the car, as he probably should have in the first instance, although this would have put him right in the intersection where cars were turning. As I pass, I look at her, point at the man, and mouth, “You almost hit that man.” She obviously wasn’t trained in the art of lip-reading, so she wound her window down to talk to me. I walked over and repeated, “You almost hit that man.” She looked at me and said, “Yeah…well?”

Yeah, well?!

“Yeah, well, that would have sucked. The nightmares and demerit points would have sucked too!”
“Yeah, well, I didn’t and even though I am a stupid driver I’m okay until the next time! Praise the Lord!”
“Yeah, well, did you hear that joke about the pope and the donkey? Hi-larious!”

Yeah, well, you are a retard.

Life / Rants — 2 Comments
22
Jan 08

Holy Mother of God, I Found a Grey Hair

Nine days before my 28th birthday, today, I finally located what I had believed to be a grey hair, one I thought I had been seeing for a few weeks. At first, when the fluorescent bathroom lights at work made the colour-void strand gleam I thought I was mistaken. I thought, perhaps it was actually a blonde hair lightened by the summer sun even though my hair is actually brown. I thought, perhaps it was just the blindingly white overhead lights playing tricks on my eyes. Then I thought, shit, perhaps I actually have a grey hair. So every day after washing my hands, I searched for the little bugger. And what happens when you look for things? You find things. And I have found my first grey hair.

After finding My First Grey Hair, the first thing I did was ask my boyfriend if he would still love me if I had grey hairs. He said yes, but of course he isn’t going to say no. There is a chance that on the inside he is thinking, “Oh shit, my girlfriend is getting old, I really hope she starts dying her hair soon.” The only problem with that is I really like the colour of my hair. The brilliant beauty of my brown hair that sometimes shines blonde and sometimes shines red and seems to have natural highlights and lowlights can not be reproduced in a bottle. Nor will it be able to be reproduced by paying someone I can’t see with my glasses off many, many dollars many, many times a year. Just thinking about the cost and time it would take to start dying my hair to cover grey makes me immediately think of all the shiny, new things I could buy instead – like one-third of a Nikon D300. Once I start dying my hair, what comes next? Botox? Chemical peels? Expensive shoes to draw attention away from my hair?

So here I am, nine days before my 28th birthday, with a grey hair on the top of my head. I have not pulled it out, and I have not decided if I am going to dye my hair. Instead, I am going to reflect upon this glorious aging process for a little while longer, and thank Christ my boobs are still pert.

For a bit longer at least.

Life — 5 Comments
3
Dec 07

I’ll Tell You A Little Truth

I was thinking about my writing the other day, and I came to the conclusion that the majority of my creativity has come from becoming me – experiencing the world, serious relationships, travelling and seeing new places, growing up and doing the things that lead to figuring out who you are as a person.

For the first time in my life I actually feel like an adult, which is also a wee bit scary. I am starting to get wrinkles, parts of my body are starting their gravitational trip to outer crust of earth, and I keep meeting people who don’t know what the running man is or who Jerrica Benton was. I find myself swilling wine to fully appreciate the flavour, I am conscious of the importance of fueling my body with the right food, I find pleasure in gardening, and I like getting up early on Saturday morning. The subcultures around me dress differently (who would have thought skaters would wear tight jeans?!), I don’t like popular music, and “kids” really annoy me (kids being anyone from 0-21). I’ve found the process of “becoming me” quite hard, depressing at times even. It’s like a post-puberty adolescence, and like puberty I’m glad it seems to be over.

During this time, I’ve found it hard to write, and when I say hard I mean almost impossible. All I’ve been doing for the past year is analysing myself over and over, to the point where I’ve almost forgotten how to look outside my own brain. I’ve forgotten how much I can be sated by writing a wretched piece on how stupid other people are, or how annoying something about the place I’m living is. At the same time, this self analytical thinking has helped me figure out what I want, what I like, and what I need. I know I need to write to be happy – so excuse me while I try to get back into the swing of things.

Guest Writers / Life — 2 Comments
9
Nov 07

Farewelling Friends

Sorry Ani lovers, but it’s Tui again. Ani is still ‘busy’ but keeps asking me to give you all some blog love so being the obliging gal that I am (and being mind numbingly bored at work) I decided I’d keep her happy and write another blog post.

Lately I’ve noticed a theme becoming prevalent in many peoples lives, (most importantly in Ani’s of course) which is that they seem to be experiencing a mass exodus of friends to exciting offshore locations. I just did a quick tally up and there have been a dozen friends of mine that have left in the last year or so – that’s one a month! And there is approximately that many again taking off in the next 12 months (including myself). This would be all very well if it was possible to regenerate one friend a month to substitute the abandoners, sadly this does not appear to be the case.

Sure it’s all fun and games for the person who is taking off but it’s just a bit shit for the people being left behind. You have to pretend to be all excited about their travels and happy for them that they are going to be beginning this new journey, when secretly you’re actually thinking how jealous you are and how crap it’ll be having to scratch yet another person off your already depleted list of lunch/drinking/hanging out buddies.

Perhaps something to soothe those of you whose closest friends have left/are leaving is to form a support group on the ever popular Facebook. Those of us feeling the effects of friend displacement could console in one another about all the things that seem to be a common occurrence of late like counting up who has had the most friends leave, which friend has had the best leaving party, who had the most ungodly airport farewell time, who has the most interesting travel blog etc etc.

The other option could be to jump on the travel bandwagon but this is obviously not possible for everyone. So those that are venturing off to explore the seven seas, spare a thought for those who have to stay behind by making sure you throw an awesome leaving party, making your departing flight at a decent hour and keeping your travel blog updated regularly so they can at least try and live vicariously through you.

And now since this is Ani’s blog I’ll zoom in on how this phenonmen has effected her:

“My two best coffee/dinner buddies, Louis and Simon, left in the past two months, my awesome flat is breaking up with Kate leaving in December, my awesome intern Tui is also leaving in January. This is on top of my best friend in the world, Pip, leaving last December to go to the UK, which she planned when I was living in the UK but didn’t really tell me, while I had planned to come back to New Zealand. That was some good planning on both of our behalves. Now I will have to:

  • find someone(s) to replace my coffee buddies when I’m stressed at work (I’ve started drinking tea at my desk – lame!). It was very handy when my two coffee buddies worked two buildings down the road. 3:30pm stressbuster for the win!

  • go out to a restaurant when I want food on the level of Louis’ masterpiecery
  • find a new flatmate to replace Kate, which is going to be hard. Not only is she a great cook, who cooks for me, but she pays her bills, comes to gigs with me, and is tidy, and I haven’t caught her checking her poo.
  • Find new friends. Where do they come from?! Grow them? Clone them? Rent some?

But I guess this isn’t all doom and gloom, because I’d rather have met all these people and become good friends with them than not at all. All of those people have made my life awesome this year, well, except Pip because she sucks and hasn’t been here all year. But she did send me a keyring with a bear wearing a snorkelling mask that said “muff diver” on it. She’s a classy broad.”

Now, haven’t we all missed Ani’s writing!

Life — 9 Comments
23
Jul 07

My Flatmates Rule!

Flatting is difficult. Let’s be honest – most people are absolutely awful to live with, and if your flatmates are your friends beforehand they probably won’t be afterwards. If they are strangers, they will probably turn out to be axe-murderers, or at the very least leave pubic hair everywhere. It’s hard to find people to live with who will be your friends during and afterwards, and who live in the same way that you do so you don’t get pissy with each other over things like leaving the toilet seat up or leaving breadcrumbs on the bench or other small things that will make you so angry you burst a blood vessel on your temple.

Over the past year I have been back in the flatting situation I have lived with some interesting characters.

The Drunk Scot
Pros: good cook
Cons: cooked for me once, drunk wine in his room every night to dull the pain of his wife being in Wales, extraordinarily boring to the point that I couldn’t listen to Scottish accents anymore

The Druggie
Pros: did the garden once, bought wood for the fire
Cons: had a stinky room, ripped me off my bond, was a druggie

The Nice Scot
Pros: super nice, hilarious boyfriend
Cons: not anal about cleaning like me, liked sausages

The English Gent
Pros: nice, great cook, had a piano
Cons: wished was my chef, too coupley with his girlfriend, sofas were really uncomfortable, gave his friends the house key

The Horder
Pros: unsure
Cons: stingy, filled the flat with her crap, strange, walked in on her looking at her poo once

So after a year of hating my flat and living with people I either liked and didn’t want to live with, or didn’t like and didn’t want to live with, I am now completely and utterly blessed to be living with the two best flatmates this side of Natalie Gregory (where are you Nat, I miss you!): Kate and Kelly.

We cook meals together. We watch television together. We seem to understand when the others want to have a conversation and when they can’t be bothered. We are setting up an account for all of our groceries and will spend the leftover money on going out together. We don’t have a roster yet the house is still tidy. We all respect each other’s peace and quiet. The only thing now is that Kate and I need to convince Kelly to come to drum and bass gigs with us. We think she is scared.

Kate and Kelly – you guys are awesome! I love you! I just hope you realise that if I move to Auckland you are coming with me. YOU HAVE NO CHOICE.

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