lindreth upside down

Election season

2011-11-15T19:23:00.001+13:00

New Zealand has national elections in just two weeks' time. Unlike in America where people are campaigning more than a year before the election, things here didn't really get into full swing until a couple weeks ago when the Rugby World Cup ended. Naturally.

So we've been soaking up a lot of political news lately and trying to educate ourselves about the candidates and the issues. As the Flight of the Conchords said, "We're talkin about the issues, but we're keepin it funky ...."

Basically, there are two main parties: National (right-leaning) and Labour (left-leaning). John Key is the head of the National party and, as his party has the most seats in parliament, he's the current prime minister.

Incidentally, how's this for the "Only in New Zealand" file? I met the prime minister a few weeks ago at an outdoor mall. Thank goodness we had our camera with us!

me and John

I've never met a prime minister before so I was a little flustered and couldn't manage anything clever to say. So all I said was, "I'm a new kiwi" and "this is Quinn" (he was on my back). John replied, "that's nice." I didn't tell him that I don't plan to vote for him.

The other major party, Labour, is led by Phil Goff, who we both find pretty irritating. He lost my vote when he appeared on a current affairs/comedy show called "7 Days". Although dressed casually in jeans and meant to be joking around with the panelists, he seemed totally stiff and insincere and not funny. Our local MP is a member of the Labour party, but we've not heard anything from her or seen any sign that she's done anything for us in the nearly two years we've lived in her electorate. So while I'm definitely a left-leaning person, Labour leaves me with an empty, unsatisfied feeling.

The third most popular party is the Green party, who are currently polling at about 10% of the vote. This seems amazing to me. Compare the American Green Party, whose candidate for the 2008 presidential election didn't even get to be on half the states' ballots, and who managed to win only about 160,000 votes (according to her Wikipedia page, anyway. Honestly I'd never heard of the woman until I just Googled this).

I'm leaning Green this election. Apart from their policies, of course, I like that a Green party representative handed out packets of organic lettuce seeds at our local farmers' market instead of pamphlets.

I like that the Greens call their website "the frog blog".

Although not an official act of the party, I also like this billboard stunt one of their members pulled. This was all over the news just today. Someone (or, more likely, many someones) defaced hundreds of National party election posters by putting stickers on them. The stickers said "The Rich Deserve More" or "Drill it, Mine it, Sell it." It was done to look like part of the poster. Of course I don't condone vandalism, but I thought this was cleverly done.

Then there is a buffet of other, smaller parties. None are polling at more than 5% of the vote right now. That means the only way a smaller party can be represented in Parliament is if one of their members wins an electorate seat.

One of those little parties is New Zealand First. I understand they're pretty far-right-leaning. They've got a guy running in our electorate. His name is Dennis O'Rourke. He recently parked a van outside our house and started talking through a a megaphone. Two of our neighbours stood nearby, listening politely.

Lonely campaigner

We were out back doing some gardening when suddenly we heard a loud voice delaring, "I'm for educating our children!" But who isn't for that, really?

Hokitika

2011-11-14T19:26:00.001+13:00

Friday was Canterbury Anniversary Day, a public holiday for those of us living in Canterbury. (All the provinces have their own anniversary day, which is their special day off work and no one else's.) Since it was a 3-day weekend, we decided to get away. We had not gotten away for some time, and considered we were well overdue.

Deciding where to go was a challenge in itself. We wanted to take both the boy and the pup - this would be a holiday for the whole pack. This means we (1) need a bach/holiday home that allows pets, and (2) need it to be within a reasonable driving distance. We wanted to go far enough away that we felt "away", but not so far that Quinn had a meltdown in the car.

The west coast is perfect for us. It's about 3 hours by car, with a perfectly placed tea/lunch/potty break halfway there in Arthur's Pass. And I was able to find a cheap 3-bedroom holiday home in Hokitika, about a block from the beach. All good.

So you expect a bach to be "rustic" and this one certainly met expectations. I think the house was quite possibly made of cardboard. Not that it blew over or leaked or anything, but you could see seams in the walls and it just didn't feel altogether solid. But that's ok; it was shelter. And it had a mighty heating device:

Provider of heat

This monster is a "multi-fuel burner" - it burns wood and coal. Even though it's late spring here, we fired this baby up our first night in the bach. There was some smoke. The smoke alarm sounded. We had to open all the windows, and the back door. It was good fun.

Incidentally, I never saw such a thing before moving to New Zealand, but wood burners are quite common for heating houses here. Lucky for me, Gareth comes from a country that is also into archaic forms of heating and was able to work the thing.

So we've never heard anyone rave about Hokitika or anything, and the west coast in general is kind of the butt of a joke most of the time. I guess that's because there aren't many people who live there. It's kind of the wild west of New Zealand. But despite this (or maybe because of it?) Gareth and I are really drawn to the place.

We were a bit slack with the camera during this holiday and didn't take any pictures of the town itself. Imagine a small, tidy town, situated alongside a beach, with a cute clock tower in the middle. That's Hokitika. No McDonald's or KFC to be found here, but it does have a Millie's Cafe (good homemade almond slice!).

On Saturday, we took a drive to see some of the sights. There was a helpful map in our bach that highlighted all the local attractions. One of them was called the "Kowhitirangi Incident Memorial". This piqued my interest. A memorial for an "incident"? Tell me more. We included this on our brief itinerary.

Gareth had heard that the Hokitika Gorge was also worth a look, so we planned to stop there as well.

Off we went.

Driving around westland is awesome because there is almost no one else on the roads, and when you do see someone, they usually wave hello. We got waves from other drivers and from one cyclist. Usually they wave as you pass each other coming out of a one-lane bridge, as if to say "Thank you for yielding and saving us both from a head-on collision while crossing this crazy narrow bridge, mate!"

These are the kinds of things you see while driving around westland:

farmy

rural rugby pitch

We got to the Incident Memorial and accidently drove right past it. One quick 3-point turn and we were there, ready to learn about this Incident.

Turns out the Kowhitirangi Incident involved a mass murder in 1941. A guy named Stanley Graham went nuts and shot 7 people. There was a huge manhunt for him which lasted 12 days. There's a plaque at the memorial that tells the whole story, which we read with interest. If you want to learn more, you don't have to travel to the west coast of New Zealand; you can just read about it here on Wikipedia.

Having had our fill of information about the Incident, we carried on to the Hokitika Gorge. It was quite nice. Here are some photos:

"maximum capacity 6 persons"

Isn't it pretty? It's that same impossibly aqua-coloured water we saw at Lake Tekapo. Something to do with glacial run-off. The result: Hokitika Gorge puts the gorge in gorgeous :-)

Airplane

2011-10-29T21:34:00.000+13:00

This week I had to fly to Auckland for work. The first time we undertook air travel in New Zealand, we could not believe how pain free it was. Years later the amazement is barely diminished. So I tell you again: flying in New Zealand is a pleasure. An absolute pleasure.

This is especially true if you fly with Air New Zealand. Here are the Top 5 reasons you should always fly with Air New Zealand (this is an unpaid advertisement!).

1. Hassle-free check-in.

It's all automated. You walk up to a kiosk, you check in. There are people there to help if you need it, but you don't need it. Because it's easy.

2. The Koru Lounge.

After you've checked in, mosey on over to the Koru lounge to wait for your flight to board. Ok, you have to be (or be with) a Koru Club member to hang in the Koru lounge, and I understand it costs $800 the first year and $400 every year thereafter if you want to join. So it's not cheap. I'm not actually a member myself, but my Wellington-based colleague is a member, and she brought me in as her guest.

I had always wondered what wonderous things went on behind the Koru Club doors. Now I know. A buffet that stretches as far as the eye can see. A well-stocked bar. An automated espresso machine. Workstations where you can plug in your laptop. Couches/lounge chairs. Television. And lots of people wearing pinstripe suits.

All the food and drink is free, so I ate a lot. I had: penne pasta, a sausage roll, a ciabatta roll, a lamington (cake coated in coconut - yum), a chocolate chip cookie, cheese and crackers, some olives. And a glass of pinot noir.

I could have eaten more, but I didn't want to seem greedy...

3. Clever safety videos.

All airlines will ask you to put your magazine down for a moment and pay attention to the important safety instructions. But only Air New Zealand makes their safety videos interesting so you don't really mind watching.

Here's the one they did for the Rugby World Cup (that's All Black coach Graham Henry and captain Richie McCaw in the cockpit, for the uninitiated):

And here's the one they were running for the last couple years. It looks like they're wearing clothes, but they're not.

4. More food and drinks!

In case you didn't get enough to eat in the Koru Lounge (or weren't able to sneak in), don't worry! They will feed and water you on the plane.

It always seemed on American airlines that every time you flew, you got fewer goodies. They'd bring the drink cart around, but you had to pay for most of the stuff on offer. And forget about getting anything more than a bag of peanuts.

On my flight from Auckland to Christchurch, coffee, tea, wine, and beer were all on offer for no charge. No charge! And there were snacks too! A choice of snacks: bagel chips with hummus, cheese and crackers, or chocolate biscuits (cookies). As I had already gorged myself in Koru, I was prepared to say no thank you when the hostess asked which snack I'd like. I did in fact say "no thank you." But then I caught a glimpse of the cheese and cracker plates. There was brie. I got the hostess' attention before she wheeled the cart away and told her I'd changed my mind.

Sitting in my aisle seat happily munching my brie and crackers (and there were grapes too!), I was pretty content. I thought nothing could make this flight nicer.

5. They watch your kids for you.

There was a very small baby on the plane a couple rows behind me. In a past life, listening to a baby cry on the plane might have made me grumpy. But on this particular day, I had just spent the night away from my own baby - my first and only night away from him in his whole 17 months of life. And I was on my way home to see him again. So hearing that baby cry only brought the mama in me to the fore. I wanted to hold that crying baby and comfort him.

But I didn't have to, because the Air New Zealand staff did it first! As the drink cart was going past, I heard the two hostesses saying something like, "are you getting him or should I?" The one who was closer said, "I will!" and then suddenly the hostess had swiped the crying baby from his mother's arms and was walking up and down the aisle with him, shushing and rocking him. I thought a couple of things. First, what a relief and a welcome break for that mother! Before I was a mother, I might have thought, "that poor woman, they took her baby!" But as a mother I now know that if someone wants to give you a break from your crying kid, even if it's a stranger, it's a gift. Take it.

I also thought, again, how wonderful Air New Zealand is.

Happiness is

2011-10-23T19:22:00.001+13:00

the seaside + coffee

Some answers

2011-10-10T14:14:00.000+13:00

A few weeks ago I did a post about things we still don't know. I talked about some questions we still have about life in New Zealand, two-plus years in.

Would you believe that in the last week, two answers to my questions have arrived in the post?? It's as if the post office is reading this blog. Creepy.

I talked about New Zealand's confusing parliamentary system, and specifically how I had no idea what MMP stands for. Then this arrived in the mail:

This helpful pamphlet explains that there is a referendum coming up on November 26th (election day) and that voters will be asked if they want to keep MMP or change to a new system. On the back, in an apparent admission that many people will have no idea what the orange man is talking about, it explains what MMP is. It stands for "mixed member proportional". The orange man explains:

This is the system we currently use to elect our Parliament.

There are 120 Members of Parliament (MPs). There are 70 electorates, including the Maori electorates. Each elects one MP, called an Electorate MP. The other 50 MPs are elected from political party lists and are called List MPs.

Each voter gets two votes. The first vote is for the political party the voter chooses. This is called the party vote and largely decides the total number of seats each political party gets in Parliament. The second vote is to choose the MP the voter wants to represent the electorate they live in. This is called the electorate vote. The candidate who gets the most votes wins. They do not have to get more than half the votes.

Under current MMP rules, a political party that wins at least one electorate seat OR 5% of the party vote gets a share of the seats in Parliament that is about the same as its share of the party vote. For example, if a party gets 30% of the party vote it will get roughly 36 MPs in Parliament (being 30% of 120 seats). So if that party wins 20 electorate seats it will have 16 List MPs in addition to its 20 Electorate MPs.

Coalitions or agreements between political parties are usually needed before governments can be formed.

Finally, a succinct explanation. This fills in so many gaps in my understanding. Thank you, Electoral Commission.

I also asked, "How much will I be charged for this ambulance ride?" This, too, has been answered via letter in our postbox:

I love the apologetic tone of the letter, where it says, "Unfortunately, because the Government only partly funds us to attend medical emergencies, we have to charge you ..." I'm pretty sure this is the most sheepishly written bill we've ever received. And we are only too happy to pay it. Sixty seven dollars!!! I doubt that will even cover their gas (it's more than $2 a litre here now... that's about NZ$7.50 per gallon. So quit your whining about gas prices, fellow Americans! Ya hear? $7.50!!)

Go the All Blacks

2011-09-24T21:08:00.001+12:00

The Rugby World Cup is happening in New Zealand right now. I'm not a huge rugby fan but I don't mind watching. And I will tune in every time the All Blacks are playing just to see the haka. I can't get enough of it.

p.s. I love Piri Weepu (he's the guy doing all the shouting).
p.p.s. This haka is from tonight's match against France. As this blog post goes to press, the AB's are winning 19 to 0. Go the All Blacks!

Pretty

2011-09-21T19:37:00.000+12:00

It's going to be a long time before the cracks in our house are fixed. We've already been looking at them for over a year, and it's likely we'll be looking at them for at least another year.

A lot of houses have had all of their broken cladding taken off and replaced with plywood. While plywood isn't attractive, it at least has the advantage of being uniform. And of course it eliminates the danger of loose bricks falling on the heads of your child/dog/meter reader. We've considered getting someone in to pull off our broken stones and plywood the house, but just haven't gotten around to it.

So we have Oamaru stone in some places and tarps in other places. And where there is stone, there are usually cracks. It's not pretty.

But this weekend I did my best to make it pretty, at least at the front entrance. We bought a bulk lot of used pots from a guy off of Trade Me. Then we got some colourful flowers from Orderings Nursery. And away we went.

There. That's better. Now rather than the house saying, "Please knock me down and put me out of my misery," it says something more like, "I'm down but not out. See my pretty flowers?"

So much still unknown

2011-09-17T20:28:00.001+12:00

It's occurred to me a lot recently that there are still so many things I don't know about everyday life in this country. It's amazing all the little things you take for granted.

For instance:

1. How tall am I? In America, I knew I was 5 feet, 6 inches tall for many years. And then I had to attend a medical exam for immigration purposes and this included measuring my height. The doctor measured me, said "5 foot 7", and made a note in my chart. So I have known for nearly three years now that I am 5 feet, 7 inches. I have no idea when I gained this extra inch, but I'll take it.
Anyway, in New Zealand, tallness is measured by centimetres. I have no idea how tall I am in centimetres.

2. How much do I weigh? Similar to above - I know my weight in pounds. I have no idea how many kilograms I weigh. When I tell people I gained 50lbs while I was pregnant (it's true - I was huge) they ask me how much that is in kilos. We're just not speaking the same language here.

3. How does the government/parliament work? This is basic civics, and I'm a little embarrassed to say that I haven't really sussed it out yet. I have a handle on the general principles. I know that whichever party gets the most MPs elected gets to have control and their leader gets to be the Prime Minister. I understand that sometimes one party won't have a majority and so they need to form a coalition. I know our local MP is Ruth Dyson and that she's a member of the Labour party. I know that when it's time to vote, I vote for a party (Labour, National, Green, Mana, or some other party) and I can vote for individual candidates. But there is so much I don't understand. I hear talk of "list MP's" and I don't know what function they serve. Also, they're always talking about "MMP"; I don't even know what this stands for. I have no idea what Ruth Dyson has ever done for me. And other questions too. I need New Zealand's version of School House Rock.

It is noteworthy that although Gareth grew up in a country that also uses a parliamentary system, he was initally a little baffled by New Zealand's system too.

4. How many calories are in this [insert foodstuff]?
Here's a New Zealand food label:

I don't know what a kJ of energy is. Is that like a calorie?

(footnote: Gareth has just told me that a "kcal" is a calorie. This particular mystery has just been solved. Hoorays!)

5. How hot should the oven be/how much butter should I add? We brought recipe books with us from the U.S. and other recipes cut from magazines and saved on the Internet. All of them measure the hotness of the oven in farhenheit and the amount of butter by the stick. I have a celcius/farhenheit conversion chart in one of my cookbooks that I have to consult every time. And it never really occurred to me before, but how gross is it to measure butter by the stick?? Apart from being a little gross, this form of measurement is not helpful here because butter sticks are not the same shape here as they are there. Butter is measured in grams. I do a lot of baking and I am forever consulting http://www.onlineconversion.com/. I don't know what I'd do without it. My muffins would be a mess.

6. When is the next public holiday? I know that we get the day off for Canterbury Day and Labour Day and Boxing Day and other days. I just don't know when they are (except Boxing Day - that one's easy). And I don't mean that I don't know the exact date the holiday will fall on this year - I mean I don't even know what month. You would think that something as important as days off work would stick in the head better. But they haven't.

7. Have I dialed this telephone number correctly? Some phone numbers have 7 digits and some only have 6. How is this possible? How does the phone know when I'm done dialling? This one bugs and perplexes.

8. Will I be billed for this ambulance ride? Ok, this is not an everyday item (thankfully). But last week Quinn and I had our first ride in an ambulance. It's ok, he's fine now. But he was blue and feverish and I took him to the doctor, who then called an ambulance to take him to hospital. They were worried about his oxygen saturation level; it was too low. And the blueness. So we were riding to the hospital and I was sick with worry about my wee boy, but also sort of wondering, "will I be charged for this?" Don't get me wrong - I would have gladly handed over our life savings if it would have gotten Quinn better quickly. But I did wonder. Ambulance service in New Zealand is provided by a private company called St John's. I'm not sure if St John's will be sending us a bill for the ride. We haven't had one yet. Watch this space...

This segues nicely to:

9. Does my child have a fever? Yet another complication arising from the United States' failure/refusal to embrace the metric system! I believe but am not positive that a normal temperature is about 36.6. I think anything in the 37s is a bit high, the 38s is quite feverish, and anything over 39 is cause for worry, I think. But I'm not sure. I don't know the temperature at which alarm bells should sound. I should find that out.

Most or all of these things can be sorted with a quick Internet search. But sometimes you just want to know things without thinking about them. This information should be available on demand. When someone says "how tall are you?" I should be able to answer without thinking. Thankfully, people almost never ask me how tall I am.

Chocolate chip cookies

2011-09-06T21:36:00.000+12:00

This post is about something near and dear to my heart: chocolate chip cookies.

My first memory of chocolate chip cookies is making them with my friend Colleen and her big sister Terri. I remember Terri letting us hand-mix the dough as she added more and more flour. It would get to the point when you've added most of the flour and it gets too hard for little girl arms to mix.

My friend Tami could make The Best chocolate chip cookies. They were so good that no one believed her when she said she was just using the recipe on the back of the Nestle Toll House bag. One night I tried to replicate her cookies. I failed. I had to call her over to help me when my cookies turned out like flat amoebas.

"The secret," she said, "is adding a little extra flour. And doubling the amount of chocolate chips."

I have just revealed to you the secret to incredible chocolate chip cookies. I don't know if Tami reads this blog. I hope she doesn't mind.

I love making chocolate chip cookies. I love eating the raw dough. I love rolling it into little balls. I love baking each batch for exactly 9 minutes (never 10, defintely never 11). I love laying them all out on paper towels, where they look lovely and delicious and leave little round buttery grease spots.

I love eating one from each baking tray as it comes out of the oven. Considering the arm work-out you get creaming the butter into the sugar and then mixing all that flour into the batter by hand, I figure you need to eat about 10 of them to fill the calorie deficit.

I do not love creaming butter into sugar and find this a major chore. Thankfully for me, Gareth doesn't mind creaming butter into sugar. He's really good at it.

I knew there would be things I'd have to make do without when we moved to New Zealand. It did not occur to me that chocolate chips might be one of them. But it's true. I have never seen Nestle Toll House chocolate chips here. Or even any other brand of chocolate chips. They seem to not exist.

Ok, they sell chocolate chips here, but they are not proper chocolate chips. They are fragments of chocolate chips. In other words, pathetic and tiny and completely unsatisfactory.

Inadequate.

Thankfully, I have connections.

Shortly after Quinn was born, our American friend Cara baked chocolate chip cookies for us. This was an extraordinary act of kindness because Cara had to dig into her own stash of imported chocolate chips. I used to get up in the middle of the night to nurse Quinn and sneak into the kitchen to eat one of those cookies. They were so perfect and familiar.

Cara recently returned from a trip to America. She asked if there was anything she could bring back for me. I asked for one thing: chocolate chips. She brought me two bags.

I am baking cookies right now. I am writing this blog post in 9-minute segments between batches of cookies.

I don't know why Blogger will not let me turn this picture the right way round. I'm sorry, but you'll have to cock your head to the right.

I am in a cookie dough-scented heaven. My tongue burns from sugar overload. It's awesome.

Gareth just came into the kitchen, nabbed two cookies and left. And came back a minute later to take two more. I said, "make sure there are some left for Friday when Cara comes over." He said, "no chance."

Assessed

2011-09-02T20:42:00.001+12:00

This weekend will mark the one-year anniversary of the September 4th earthquake. One year in, and things are still pretty broken here. We try to just get on with things and not dwell on the cracks.

We had a full assessment by EQC in January, but then the February quake hit and really knocked us down. So we've been waiting since then for EQC to come back and check things over again and tell us what repairs our house will need. We waited and waited.

Finally someone called and made an appointment to come see us. We were so thrilled! We waited with great anticipation for the appointed day to arrive. We know other people who have already had their assessments, so we sort of knew what to expect. Two men wearing flourescent vests would show up in a Toyota Corolla, carrying iPads. They would spend hours taking measurements and making careful notes. That was the one thing everyone said: they are so thorough. One friend whose house suffered virtually no damage at all said EQC spent 4 hours there. So we fully expected them to be at our house for the better part of the day.

Mike and John showed up on time in their Corolla, wearing flouro vests, carrying iPads. All going as expected so far. But then it got a little weird. Mike started telling me what a disaster the whoe re-build effort is. He shook his head sadly. He said the people in charge are "idiots". They don't know what they're doing. It's all such a shame. And on and on.

Mike explained that he had worked in L.A. following the 1994 Northridge quake. He was comparing the rebuild effort there to the one here. Apparently, they did it a lot better in L.A. The people here are idiots.

As I said, we're really trying to stay optimistic here. We want to, we need to believe that it's all going to be ok. Mike was really not helping matters.

One of the things he said was that a lot of the assessors hired by EQC to do these inspections have no building experience at all. He said a bunch of them are ex-cops. He assured me that both he and John are experienced builders and that we were in good hands. So that was good, I guess.

John took a walk around the outside of the house and came back in with a grim report: "It's all coming down." !! Ah, but not as bad as it sounds - he was just talking about the Oamaru stone cladding. The house is made of wood, but has white stone cladding on the exterior. It's all coming down. To be fair, a good portion of the stones have already come down, thanks to Mother Nature. John was just confirming that the rest would also have to come down.

They used nifty laser devices to check the floors and make sure they're still level (they are). They made notes in their iPads. They looked at the ceilings, the walls, the attic.

An hour later, they packed up their gear.

What? Done already? But... you just got here!

I really did not want to question their methods, but felt I had to point out the anecdotal evidence that these inspections should take 4 or 5 hours. Mike's response: "those inspectors are idiots." Ah, right. He said our house is really an "easy case" and there's nothing major or unusual here. All of the cladding has to come off and be replaced. All of the surfaces of the interior walls (paper/paint) have to be repaired and replaced. "You'll get our report in 6 to 8 weeks." But the house is solid. They say. After only looking at it for an hour.

Gareth was especially concerned about a bit at the back where the patio bricks have been pushed up, causing us to wonder if the concrete slab has broken. "Nah, that's fine," they said. Hmmm. Gareth questioned whether they had really looked at it properly (he managed to do this politely without suggesting the builders did not know what they were doing). Mike and John agreed to take another look, "to put your mind at ease". The men went out back and had another look, but Mike and John did not change their views on this point. Nothing to worry about. In any event though, there is a separate 'land assessment team' who will have a look at this.

So they left.

They're attitude was like, "trust us, we know what we're doing," but I have to say, after listening to Mike tell us what a disaster the whole process is, it's a bit hard to be trusting. I guess he was saying, "they're all idiots except us," but I'm not really convinced. I'm a little worried.

I want to believe they did know what they were doing and that our house really is ok. It's great news that we don't have to be bulldozed. A brand new house might have been nice, but we can really do without all the hassle.

So we've been assessed. Now we sit back and wait 6 to 8 weeks for the report.

Oh Yes, it snowed.

2011-08-19T20:29:00.012+12:00

The snow hit us on Sunday night. We woke up on Monday morning to a glorious white-out.

So beautiful!

Gareth's work was closed, Quinn's daycare was closed. (I work from home, so work is never closed for me, but under the circumstances it was a minimal work day). So we stayed inside all day, heater cranked, enjoying our bonus day of holiday. We pigged out, drank tea, and played with Quinn. Snow days are fun!

Everything is more beautiful when coated in fluffy white snow. The street, the bushes, the mailbox, the washing line. It all looks magical and wonderful.

Frozen lemonade anyone?

We were playing outside when the sun started to try to come out. High in the sky and very faint, we could see a rainbow. Only it wasn't raining, it was snowing. It was a SNOWBOW! I snapped a photo of it.

There is a snowbow in this photo. Honest.

Later when we were looking at the photos, Gareth said, "Nice one. What exactly were you photographing here?" So yeah, you kind of have to squint to see the snowbow. But it's there. I'm pretty sure.

On Monday night, more snow. Lots more snow. When we woke up on Tuesday, it was as if we hadn't disturbed yesterday's snow at all. It had all been replaced and made perfect again. Hoorays!

clean slate

Day Two of hibernation is not as fun as Day One, however. You can't really keep a 1-year old out in the snow indefinitely, as he is very small and can barely walk in his gumboots. Gareth was called into work around midday, so he broke away and left us on our own just as cabin fever was really starting to set in.

Since the City Council was asking that everyone all limit driving to "essential" travel, I couldn't really justify social visits. And our usual standby - going out for coffee - was not an option either, since everything was closed. So I phoned my friend who lives at the top of the hill behind us and boldly invited ourselves over. "Of course, c'mon up!" she said. Ten minutes later we were suitably dressed (think of Randy in A Christmas Story) and we headed out into the storm.

Carrying a baby uphill through a foot of snow was hard work, but totally worth it to get out of the house.

One thing we're seeing more and more lately is that Quinn really, really likes to be outside. He's an outdoorsman, our boy. Here he is complaining when we brought him back inside.

Look at this face!

So it's Friday now, and the snow is nearly all gone. Ah well, it was fun while it lasted.

Storm

2011-08-14T12:46:00.005+12:00

The people who predict weather have been all atwitter, going on about this big storm that is supposedly about to descend on the South Island. The supermarkets were jammed with panicky shoppers yesterday. There were news reports of stores running out of bread and firewood. "It's going to be huge," they said.

But this morning the sun was shining brightly. We went to the farmers' market and then to the park where we met a friend. We were squinting in the sunshine, enjoying the beautiful morning, idly pushing our kids on the swings. It seemed that once again, the weathermen had got it wrong.

But then, not long after we got home, it started to look a bit gray and dark outside.

And then it got more gray. And more dark.

And look out the window now: it's coming!

This is a rapidly changing situation. In the time it took me to see these clouds, decide to do a blog post, find the camera, snap a photo, upload the photo to the computer, and then log into Blogger (in other words, about a minute and a half), the sky had opened up! Suddenly, there was hail pounding our rooftop and the grass was turning white.

We're hunkering down. This could be a big one.

Dog park

2011-07-29T19:44:00.004+12:00

In Christchurch, the rich people live by the airport and the poor people live at the beach. And the dogs get prime real estate at the top of the Port Hills for their play area.

Of course I'm talking about the Victoria Park dog exercise area. It's fantastic.

At the top of Dyers Pass Road, just past the Sign of the Takahe, is Victoria Park and its dog exercise area. A sign near the water fountain reads: "A tired dog is a good dog".

The exercise area is a huge fenced field at the top of the hills. You can see the snow-capped Southern Alps in one direction; the Pacific Ocean in the other.

I'm pretty sure that if Aynsley died and went to heaven, she would go here.

Snowy Sunday run in the Port Hills

2011-07-24T12:59:00.016+12:00

Well Lindsay has given control of the blog to me for the first time. Thought I would share a little insight on what I get up to when Linds lets me out to play in the hills.

The weather forecast for this morning called for a southerly front blowing up the country from the Antarctic, with snow down to sea level. What to do in this situation?

1. Head off to the mall with the masses?

B. Head to the local cafe for a hot chocolate and a cheeky caramel slice?

Or thirdly, load up my pack, grab the dog and head up in to the Port Hills for a 3 hour trail run.

I loaded up the pack and away we went.

I was a little disappointed that it hadn't snowed overnight, but ever the optimist I knew it would eventually snow, and I would be there to see it.

Heading up in to the Hills I came across the first lambs of the season.

Newborn lambs getting their feed on

Aynsley is just a young pup, and her training is ongoing. I could see something primeval stir within her when she saw the sheep. An ingrained need to herd them. Better safe than sorry I popped her back on the lead.

Why won't you let me herd them?

As we were getting closer to the top of the hill, the southerly front came rolling in.

Here comes the snow!

The air got colder, the wind windier, and I could smell snow in the air. Once I got to the top I took a trot along the summit road to where it is closed. There are huge concrete barriers across the road blocking access. After the February earthquake there was major damage to the summit road and a number of my favourite trails due to rockfall. Last week a video emerged on youtube of some mountain bikers who cycled the length of the closed section of road and recorded it on helmet cam. The post came down pretty quickly so I can't link to it, but the damage up there was huge. You won't catch me going up there any time soon.

Road Closed!

Maximum $5000 fine and 3 months in jail.

Thankfully there are still trails in the area open. With Aynsley off lead we headed along the ridge line hoping to see some snow.

Eventually some white stuff started to fall from the sky. Bah, it was hail blowing sideways into my face!

Hail settling on the ground.

It did eventually turn to snow, so coming up a few gratuitous snowy hill shots.

This wasn't in the brochure!

My favourite section of trail on the hills.

Going uphill on the new snow got a bit slippery.

Looking down towards Governors Bay.

Sign explaining why the Sign of the Kiwi is closed

The Sign of the Kiwi is a cafe at the top of the hill where the summit road crosses Dyers pass road. It's popular in the summer with tourists, and year round with cyclists who cycle up the hill, have a coffee and head home again. The sign above explains that due to damage caused by the June 13th earthquakes it is closed for the time being. Yet another thing closed in our city. It will reopen soon though, just like everywhere else.

The Sign of the Kiwi was our turn around point for today, so we took a different route home. A less exposed route.

Some cover on the route home.

By now the weather had started to clear up, and the sun even came out a little. We made good time back along the trail.

Snowy feet.

Some snowy pup shots.

Now, you would think that with this rough weather, and being really early on a Sunday morning that the hills would be deserted. Even the snow coated trails would make you think so.

Judging by these prints, only one man and his dog have been this way.

Here's the thing though, we weren't alone out there. On the way up the hill I met a lady coming down. Running along the ridge at the top I met a group of 5 runners ploughing through the snow. When we stopped at the Sign of the Kiwi for Aynsley to get a drink I saw another pair of runners and a lone woman. Heading back I met a middle aged couple walking their dog, a pair of women runners and had another meeting with the group of 5. All along the rest of the way home I saw probably another 10 people out walking and running in the hills in this horrible weather. This is probably more than I see out there on a good day!

Talking with the middle aged couple walking their dog, the man said he expected it to be deserted, but it was like Colombo Street this morning.

I think it says a lot about the people here, that when the weather is as bad as can be (and this is the first snow we have seen since we moved here) they load up their packs, lace up their shoes and head in to the Hills.

Finally, I'm home.

Oil and a tire

2011-07-21T20:32:00.008+12:00

In New Zealand your car has to have a Warrant of Fitness (WOF) every six months. This means you have to take your car to a garage or to VTNZ for a safety check. If your car is safe, you pass. If not, you fail.

Our Subaru came due for its WOF this week. Incidentally, in New Zealand they say "su-BA-ru" instead of "SU-ba-ru". We don't know why.

I drove over to VTNZ, which was an adventure in itself. They're on Lichfield Street in the [former] CBD, surrounded by closed roads. After running into a few dead ends and circling one particular block a few times, I finally got there. I paid $45 and waited for the verdict.

The mechanic came into the waiting area with his clipboard. "Su-BA-ru?"

It was bad news.

The left rear tire did not match the other three tires. Three of our tires were "asymmetrical" tires but the left rear one was "normal". This means we fail.

I pointed out that the left rear tire is only different because at our last WOF exam, they told us it was worn down and had to be changed. AND it passed the re-check. Mechanic Man said he's really sorry but that at the re-check they probably just checked to see if we had changed out the tire and didn't check to make sure all 4 tires matched.

Annoying.

He said whoever changed the left rear tire "really should have known better."

Super annoying.

There's really no sense arguing at a time like this. I made an appointment at the local garage to get a new tire. As we were seriously overdue for an oil change, I asked for one of those too. I dropped the car off the next day for the service.

I am sure there must be decent, honest mechanics in the world. As far as I can say from my own personal experience, however, these good folks are not in any of the cities where I have lived. I have been driving cars needing repairs for nearly 20 years now and almost without exception, I've driven away from the car mechanic thinking, "I've just been ripped off, haven't I?"

When I went to pick up the car at the end of the day, I was handed a bill for $440. Four Hundred and Forty Dollars. How can this be possible, I wondered. I examined the bill in stunned silence.

Oil filter. $18.25
Oil. $91.32
Air filter. $11.30
Wiper blade refill. $17.40
Tyre. $177.39.

And the list went on. There was a 'tyre disposal charge'. Apparently I bought something called a 'sump plug washer' and 'consumables'. And of course labour charges. And GST (tax). It all added up to $440.86.

Two things really aggravated me as I read this bill. First, how does oil cost $91? Did they accidentally put NASA-grade rocket oil in my su-BA-ru? I have never paid so much for oil. I have never even heard of anyone paying so much for oil. Does this have something to do with the Iraq war?

Secondly, I only asked for an oil change and a new tire. Why are there new wiper blades on my car? No one asked me if I wanted a new air filter. They had my phone number. They could have called to ask. They didn't.

I thought, I could make a big stink here. I could refuse to pay for these wiper blades. But sometimes you're just not in the mood to argue. I let it go. I paid the bill.

As I was driving off to my next errand, I was stopped at a stoplight reading the invoice again, still wondering how oil can cost $91. Then I saw it. The description of the work done at the top of the page:

"Replace right rear tyre and fit new wiper blades."

$%#@@!!!! I didn't ask for new wiper blades! And I asked you to change the LEFT tire, not the right! Left! Left!!

I drove back to the garage and stormed out of the car, clutching the invoice in one hand, my can of whoop-ass in the other. I spoke to Darryl (his name was on a patch on his overalls). I exercised extreme restraint, I think, when I calmly said, "I'm sorry, but I'm afraid you've replaced the wrong tire."

"No I haven't."

$%#^!!!!!

"Yes, I think you have. I needed a new left rear tire, but you replaced the right one instead." I tried to explain the whole asymetrical versus normal thing but I couldn't remember that it was called "asymetrical" so I probably didn't sound very educated on the subject.

Darryl explained that the left tire was normal and the right tire was asymetrical (and I thought, "yes, that's the word!") and that asymetrical tires are really hard to come by in New Zealand. He guessed these tires were original to the car when it was imported from Japan. He said to replace the left normal tire with an asymetrical tire would have cost an arm and a leg, and that it was much more economical to do what he had done, i.e. replace the right tire so that I have two normal tires on the rear axle.

Hmm, ok, that sounds reasonable. But will it pass WOF? Yes, he assured me it would. He also pointed out that the left tire was fairly new and did not need replacing yet. Of course, as we had just bought that one 6 months ago following the last WOF inspection.

So I had the re-check today and, as Darryl promised, the car passed. So that is good.

But I'm still feeling like I may have been ripped off. Why didn't they talk to me about all this before doing it? They could have called and asked, do you want an asymetrical tire or do you want a normal one? They could have told me the price difference and I could have made an informed choice. Ditto for the wiper blades, air filter, and "consumables" (what IS that?). I'm also kind of wondering if he's going to resell my apparently very valuable asymetrical tire and make some money on the side. All of this leaves me feeling unsatisfied.

On the other hand, the su-BA-ru is running really well with that rocket oil in it.

Every day

2011-07-17T19:26:00.005+12:00

Today we went to the beach. Why don't we go to the beach every day? Every time I go, I think, I should be here every day.

Gareth said, "This is why we moved here." He was in the Port Hills this morning, running with Aynsley the pup, looking out toward the snow capped Southern Alps in the distance. Then this afternoon, a gorgeous crisp sunny winter day, we went for a walk on the beach. Seriously, why don't we do this every day? This IS why we moved here.

Today was a good day.

Slacker

2011-07-07T20:04:00.010+12:00

Lately there just don't seem to be enough hours in the day. Also I am lacking in motivation and subject matter.

I never thought it could have been possible to simultanously be really busy and have nothing much going on. But, turns out, I was wrong.

But there is stuff going on, in fact. It's kind of old news now, but Gareth ran in the Christchurch marathon. His workmate had entered the half marathon and then changed his mind, so he gave his bib to Gareth. Gareth's one of those people that can get up off the couch and run a half-marathon. "Base level of fitness" he likes to say... Of course Quinn and I were there to cheer him on. Here's my awesome photography skills at work:

It's hard to take someone's picture when there's a toddler hanging off of you and the person is running by.

Other than that old news, we've been busy with our new puppy. Who knew that puppies are so much work?! (ok, probably anyone who's ever had a puppy, which does not include us.) We are doing everything by the book with this puppy because we want a Good Dog. We're taking her to expensive training classes and following all the instructions we receive there. We're walking her 2 or 3 times a day. We're doing tricks. We're even feeding her a New Zealand-made raw diet (this stuff) supplemented with bones from the local organic butcher. Yes, our dog eats better than we do. She seems happy and healthy and she will lie down as soon as we say "lie down" so we must be doing something right.

We have been really surprised at how many people stop to tell us how beautiful our puppy is. We're not sure if this is because Kiwis are friendly, or because they love Border Collies, or if this is something that happens everywhere with every puppy. But we're pretty sure that heaps more people have stopped us to compliment our dog than have ever stopped us to compliment our baby. It's okay, we're not offended. The dog is quite pretty.

Aftershocks are slowing down, thankfully. The other day we had a full 24-hour period with no aftershocks. It was really nice.

But the signs of past earthquakes are everywhere you look. A good friend recently described the effect of looking at all of this everyday as "soul robbing" - so true. It can be hard to look on the bright side and focus on all the good things that lay ahead.

I recently took some photos of earthquake-related signs. A collection of sorts. Here you go:

Lots of business opportunities out there

a public service announcement

this church has been demolished

getting on with it

"bore water"

"we are sliding off hill"

This was a good cafe - we hope it reopens soon.

Too hard

2011-06-22T21:09:00.002+12:00

Last night as we were drifting off to sleep, we were hit with a 5.4 aftershock. It went on and on and made quite a lot of noise. It was followed by an army of smaller aftershocks. We just laid there wondering if there was a big one coming.

It's just too much sometimes.

It's times like this you really need some silly. This dancing chihuahua does it for us:

Shaky

2011-06-13T19:40:00.006+12:00

Today mother nature treated us to two more aftershocks - a 5.5 and a 6.0*. Both were located near our side of town and big enough to make my heart stop and my mouth shout impolite words. The first one hit shortly after lunch. I was here, working from home, as you do when your office is still shut down due to earlier natural disasters. There was a tremendous noise as our poor house shook and shook. When it stopped I shouted some bad words and went to get my phone to text Gareth and tell him I was ok. I tried ringing Quinn's daycare but could not get through and so I just hopped in the car and drove over there. He was completely unscathed and unaware. Oh, to be a blissfully ignorant child again!

Back at home, books had been shaken off the bookshelves. I picked them all up and went around the house righting all the picture frames for the 839th time. I swear, we should just paint some rectangles on the walls and superglue some photos to them. Our bedside lamps had been knocked over so I stood them back up too. The glassware - what's left of it after the February quake - had all shifted dangerously close to the front of the cabinet shelves, so I tucked them all safely toward the back again. Thankfully nothing had broken.

My hands were nearly steady again by this point, so I made myself a cup of coffee and settled back into my desk chair to get some more work done.

That's when the second one hit.

It is really hard to describe how scary it is when your house is shaking like that. I certainly don't have the words. It is noisy and frightening and you just don't know when it's going to stop.

It did stop, eventually, and I sort of wandered toward the kitchen, dazed and a bit dizzy. All the books were on the floor again, pictures were on the floor, the iPod was on the floor, glass was on the floor, lots of other stuff that shouldn't be on the floor was on the floor.

We're super bummed that one of our 6 gorgeous Scottish glasses was broken.

there were casualties

These are a special type of glassware native to Scotland whose name I don't remember but they were lovely and a wedding present. They had recently come into frequent use as our new wine glasses, since all of our regular wine glasses are broken, save one. If this keeps up, soon we'll be drinking wine out of martini glasses. We also lost the pestle for our mortar and pestle, which seemed like a pretty solid piece of stone, but there you have it. Busted.

We have great neighbours. Both sides were over in a flash to check on us. I could hear the little boy next door crying. The neighbour helped me pull open the garage door (the power had gone out - the electric door opener useless) and I was on my way to Quinn's daycare a second time. He was still blissfully unaware, my precious boy. All the kids were sitting outside by the sandbox having a grand old time.

The power was out for a few hours but came back on in time for us to cook dinner at the usual hour. We are still without running water, but, as diligent disaster-prepared Cantabrians, we have plenty in our Emergency Kit.

The house is still standing. We are still standing. We are shaken but not broken.

*postscript 14 June 2011 - GNS has now upgraded these shocks to a 5.7 and 6.3, respectively.

Two years

2011-06-02T20:05:00.007+12:00

A few days ago marked our two year anniversary in New Zealand. Two years! It's time we pause and reflect on our last year as immigrants.

This last year has brought huge changes for us - our newborn baby has grown into a toddler. We've lived through two major earthquakes and countless aftershocks (ok, someone is actually counting.) More recently, to make things more interesting, we got a puppy!

I think the biggest change between now and one year ago is our sense of being settled. We don't even feel like immigrants anymore - we are just people living here. Instead of being on the outside looking in, we're on the inside looking out. At least, that's the way it feels. I suppose it's possible the natives still consider us hopelessly foreign.

It's a bit strange to say it, but the September 4th and February 22nd earthquakes probably helped make us feel more Kiwi. We've shared in the tragedy and loss. We are Cantabrians! And like the rest of Canterbury, we have a story to tell about where we were when it happened. We are suffering the same PTSD symptoms every time a big truck drives by and rattles the windows. (It's horrible, really. We hope it ends soon.)

Having a baby probably also helped us settle in well. Just last month we had a group birthday party to celebrate the first birthdays of all the babies in our antenatal class. Thanks to this class, we met a fantastic group of mums and bubs (and dads!) and still see them regularly. If you're considering moving to New Zealand, we recommend getting knocked up shortly after you arrive. It will help.

Of course, people still ask where we're from nearly every time we open our mouths. Just this week I got, "Are you North American?" from someone who apparently did not want to make a call between American and Canadian. But more and more of the local vernacular is finding its way into our vocabulary. Gareth's standard greeting to passers-by is now "g'day". A big change for me over the last year is that I went from (1) typing "neighbor", to (2) typing "neighbor" and then backspacing to add a U, to (3) typing "neighbour" in the first instance. I know it's just one little letter, but it's symbolic of something bigger. What used to be foreign is now the default.

I used to read the New York Times online, but then they stared limiting the number of articles you can read for free (jerks.) I therefore switched to the Chicago Tribune, thinking it'd be good to read news from Chicago as I grew up in its suburbs. It turns out this was not such a great move. Do you know how many people get shot in Chicago? It seems every second story is about someone getting shot. Recently the Tribune reported that 13 people had been shot in one night. That's thirteen separate shootings in one night in one city. It's beyond depressing.

I mention this because it renewed my sense of happiness about living in a place with very few guns.

I also mention it because we are finding the longer we live here, the less we are reading news from "home". Gareth still reads the BBC (although mostly for the sport, I reckon), and as I say, I still browse the Chicago Tribune to find out who has been murdered. But these days, we get most of our information from stuff.co.nz and Radio New Zealand. International news reporting in this country does leave something to be desired though, so we will probably always have a need for BBC and the New York Times.

Last year I wrote about some things we missed from America and the UK. This year, there really isn't anything we miss. Of course, we miss our families, but no more than we did when we lived in Arizona. Our families have been far away from us for a very long time. I used to miss filter coffee a little bit, but now I am truly, madly, and deeply in love with New Zealand's cafe culture and the flat white. (I love you flat white, kiss kiss.)

I do admit, however, that if I were catapulted into an American mall, I would be dropping hundreds of dollars at J Crew and Ann Taylor with no regrets. Two years in and I still have no idea where to go to buy a good pair of jeans. The urge to shop is especially strong now as I have lost all of the baby weight and then some, leaving most of my pre-baby clothes a little too big (oh, if only all of my problems could be so awesome!). But while the often-poor quality of shopping in New Zealand can be annoying at times, it's also a blessing. Buying stuff shouldn't be a priority, and being forced to remember that at times is a good thing.

In short, we have made a family here, we three (plus Aynsley the pup). It's a beautiful thing. Happy two-year New Zealiversary to us!

One year

2011-05-30T21:17:00.004+12:00

We did it! Somehow we managed to keep our boy alive and well for one whole year! Happy first birthday to Quinn!

Sick

2011-05-21T19:41:00.005+12:00

Yesterday afternoon I got the dreaded call from daycare: "Quinn is unwell. His temperature is 39.2." That's 102.5F. And that's not good. This was the third time since he started daycare 7 weeks ago that he's had to come home sick. Lucky for us, the doctor's office is conveniently located just around the corner from the day care. It's becoming a well-trodden path.

I phoned the doctor's office and asked if they could squeeze us in. I almost said, "It's us again!" since we were just there the week before. The receptionist said someone could see me shortly, so I grabbed Quinn's well child book (a record of all his healthcare since birth) and went to retrieve my poor sick boy.

It was great to pull up to the doctor's office and see that they were no longer working out of a trailer. Their building had been damaged in the February earthquake so they were temporarily working out of a trailer parked out back. Yesterday we were able to go into the actual reception area, which is much nicer than a trailer.

One of the great things about having a baby in New Zealand is that all his health care is FREE. If I go to the doctor, I have to pay a fee of about $30, but because Quinn is under 6, it's all free. Free doctor's visits, free immunisations, free prescriptions. It's a great way to do things, because money should never be a reason not to get your sick child to the doctor.

We were seen quickly by a nurse who took Quinn's temperature again (still 39.2) and then stripped him down and gave him some paracetamol and ibuprofen. The daycare had noticed a faint rash on his chest so the nurse checked that out too. The concern was meningitis - not a word any mum wants to hear. I'm not even sure what meningitis involves, but it just sounds really bad. The doctor came in to have a look and check him out. She said his ears looked pink but not infected. She closely examined the rash, then called in another doctor to have a look at the rash with her. The consensus seemed to be that this was a mere viral rash, not a meningitis rash. I was reassured.

But they wanted to get a urine sample anyway. Do you know how hard it is to get a urine sample from a baby?! It's damn near impossible. Especially when that baby is feeling unwell and won't stop wiggling or whining. We were shown into a private room and handed a small plastic cup, and basically left to our own devices.

For the next half hour, I held a naked baby to my breast and let him nurse while I held a cup under his penis. It felt more than a little silly. And of course, he refused to pee.

I started to get really irritated with the situation. I started to think, I want my mommy! My mom had 4 kids and would surely know what to do with a rashy whiny one. It was one of those times when I wished I didn't live so far away. I guess that's one of the drawbacks of moving to the other side of the world: lack of access to mommy during moments of childish neediness.

When the nurse came back in to check on us, I was pacing with my crying baby and crying a little myself. The nurse (bless her) put her arm around me and told me I was doing everything right. Quinn's temperature had gone down to normal. The doctor said to just keep an eye on him tonight, take him to After-hours care if I have any concerns at all. She gave us a referral form.

When we got home, suddenly Quinn was a ray of sunshine. Smiles and giggles all over the place. We were so relieved! He was cured!

Alas, our relief was short-lived. We had a horrible unsettled night with our sick baby. If you have kids, you know. If you don't have kids, you don't want to know. Ugh.

This morning we got up to find that Quinn had become rather rashy indeed. What had been faint red spots on his chest and tummy yesterday were now darker red spots spreading up his neck and onto his face. To after-hours!

We were a little unsure what to expect from after-hours care in New Zealand. We had been to Urgent Care places in America, where we waited for ages and paid $75 for the privilege (on top of insurance premiums, of course). Thankfully we hadn't needed any urgent medical care since getting here nearly 2 years ago.

We walked up to a receptionist and explained Quinn's symptoms. She typed them into her computer and then directed us to a waiting area. Within about 90 seconds, a nurse came out to greet us, and went over the symptoms with us. She then directed us into another waiting area.

Another nurse came out about 2 minutes later and took us into an examination room. She went over the list of symptoms again. She then took Quinn's vitals. We learned that Quinn really, REALLY does not like to have his heart rate taken. Many screams later, the nurse walked us out of the room back to the waiting area. On this walk, we ran into a doctor who stopped the nurse and asked where she could help out. The nurse said, "you can take this one - " motioning to us. We went with the doctor to another examination room.

This was all moving thankfully quickly - I can't even imagine how we would have coped in the waiting room with our sick baby for extended periods if we had had to wait.

The doctor we ran into who was assigned to see us was FANTASTIC. She was patient and interested and kind. She listened carefully to everything we said and asked thoughtful questions. When I asked if I could nurse Quinn to calm him down she gushed "of course!" and went on to say nice things to make me feel like a good mum for breastfeeding. Warm fuzzies.

She peeked in his ears and declared "Ear infection." A nasty one, apparently. It must have gotten much worse overnight as it was undetected the day before. This would be his third ear infection in 6 weeks. If this continues we may need to see a specialist. We discussed the pros and cons of anti-biotics, she wrote us prescriptions, and we were on our way.

One thing that's different about health care here - apart from being affordable - is that we don't see a specialist right away. I seem to remember that when I was sick as a kid I saw a pediatrician. Here, you see your general practitioner/family doctor in the first instance. Part of me (the mother part) wants the very best care out there and thinks that every runny nose Quinn has requires no less than the expertise of a Gregory House MD. But most of me realises that this would be a huge waste of resources. A GP can handle an ear infection. It makes sense to see the GP and save the pediatrician's time for the really seriously sick kids.

In our case, if the GP thinks Quinn needs further attention for his recurring ear infections, she'll refer us to an ENT. We may look into getting tubes in his ears. Hopefully we won't need to do that.

Anyway, we're very happy with the health care we're getting down here. We rate our first experience at Christchurch's after-hours care an A+.

A collection

2011-05-14T09:36:00.004+12:00

These are some of the port-a-loos (aka port-a-potties) we passed on a walk home from the bakery yesterday.

(The photo quality is a little lacking because these were taken with my cell phone.)

That's a chemical toilet collection point on the left - "human waste only"

The new normal.

Thanks for asking

2011-05-08T14:03:00.007+12:00

This week we got a mailing from the Christchurch City Council and CERA (Canterbury Earthquake Recovery Authority), inviting us to share our thoughts for the rebuilding of the central city.

We think it's really nice that Christchurch is at least making an effort to make it look like they will take our ideas and preferences into account. Thanks for asking, Christchurch!

What the city will look like when it's finally rebuilt is a subject of virtually every conversation we have with just about everyone lately. Everyone is wondering what will happen with our city. Will it come back bigger, better, stronger? Or will it be a miserable mess? I met a man this week who summed up my own sentiments very well: "I just hope they don't stuff it up!"

It's hard to put faith in our leaders to do this very difficult job well. But we have to. It seems like they're getting off on the right foot, at least. This newspaper mailer they sent us discusses "the five guiding principles" for the development of a central city plan:

1. Foster business development

2. Respect for the past

3. A long-term view of the future (including promotion of a green and sustainable garden city)

4. Easy to get around

5. Vibrant central city living

They talk about four key areas - "life, space, market, and move" - that will be vital to the redevelopment of our central city.

Clearly, they've got all the right buzz words happening. Hopefully they've got some vision behind those buzz words. We're thinking more, better public transportation, cafes and restaurants, tree-lined streets, and pedestrian malls. We'd like more green space too - a place to sit and let Quinn crawl around on the grass while we drink our flat whites. I was also hoping they'd build some of the new buildings out of brick. All the nice old character buildings have fallen down, it seems. It would be a shame if everything was rebuilt in concrete and glass.

We just hope they don't stuff it up.

Got a good idea for our city? Share it here.

Holiday 2011: the final installment

2011-05-02T19:15:00.016+12:00

OK, let's wrap this holiday up.

View Larger Map

Before we leave Invercargill though (the arsehole of the world, but with a nice farmer's market), we need to make a quick stop in Bluff. Bluff piqued our curiosity and captured our imaginations when we saw South, a documentary hosted by Marcus Lush and shown on TV1 here last winter. We loved South and by extension we loved Marcus Lush. And throughout the series, Marcus Lush had gone on and on about his "beloved Bluff", his adopted home town. So we wanted to see it. Also, Bluff is way at the bottom of New Zealand, at the end of Highway One. It's The End of the Road. Our tour of the bottom of the South Island would not be complete without a stop in Bluff.

The sign marking the End of the Road

There really wasn't much to Bluff. It was a pretty ordinary looking small town. Driving through, we can't exactly say we would describe the place as 'beloved'.

In fact a lot of it would be better described as 'neglected'.

We saw movement inside just after I snapped this photo and thought, "shit, someone lives there!!" We quickly drove off. I guess that makes me a drive-by photographer...

Still, I wished we had spent more time in Bluff. There was something about it that drew me in. Maybe it was the oysters.

But onwards and northwards...

We carried on along the bottom of the South Island until we reached a lovely little surfer's beach at Colac Bay. This was a nice rocky beach where we could watch surfers doing their thing.

Our next stop was Te Anau. We had stopped here during our 2006 visit to New Zealand. This small town is the pit stop for travellers who are visiting Milford Sound or doing the Routeburn track or one of several other tracks in Fiordland. It's a gorgeous area with a very nice lake.

From the town you can walk along the lake and right to the start of the Kepler Track, one of New Zealand's "great walks". Having our wee man in tow, we were not able to do the whole track, but we did manage to make two nice day walks out of it. Along the lakeside part of the track (which isn't really officially the Kepler track, but the track leading to it) there was a little wildlife centre. They had takahes there!

Not blue chickens

The first time I saw a toadstool was in the Abel Tasman park when we came to New Zealand in 2008. I was just as excited to see them this time. Gareth thinks this is just silly, but it's not. Red mushrooms are really neat.

toadstools!

Are we in Alice's Wonderland?!

The Kepler track was really lovely. Nice trees, nice views of the lake. It was all very pretty. What was NOT pretty were the sandflies. Oh My God, the sandflies. They were horrible. And us without our bug spray. Nightmare. I'll just leave it at that.

From Te Anau, we went on to Queenstown. The drive was beautiful, especially as we came to Lake Wakatipu. It was a clear sunny day with just a few wispy clouds lingering over the mountains. Breathtaking.

Queenstown is very touristy. It's packed with tourists and businesses catering to tourists. It's especially known for having every kind of adventure tourism on offer. Everywhere you turn there are opportunities to do dangerous things like jump off a bridge or careen down a gorge in a modified speed boat. It's a bit of a shame that the place is so commercialized because the setting really is absolutely stunning. The lake, the mountains, incredible. All of it.

Rather than stay in Queenstown, we decided to go a little further up the road to Arrowtown. This turned out to be a brilliant move. We loved Arrowtown.

We've always got time for a flat white

Quaint candy shoppe

Arrowtown was just dripping with charm and character. In fact, it was almost too charming. Part of us thought it lacked a certain New Zealand-ness. There were no rough edges whatsoever. It was just perfect and cute everywhere we looked. We're all for perfect and cute, but that's really not the New Zealand we have come to love. Still, Arrowtown is a beautiful place and I'd love to go back one day.

It's a place I'd take my mom to, because I know she would love it, if only she would get on a damn airplane ...

But now on to our final stop: Cromwell!

Cromwell made our list of places to stay because Gareth had signed up to participate in the Northburn Station 100 mile race. To be clear, that's not a 100 mile drive or a 100 mile bike ride. That's 100 miles on foot. Through mountains. In bad weather. If you're thinking, "Ooo Ooo, where can I sign up?!" then you can go here, you nutter. "Northburn Station 100 miler: You don't race it, you survive it."

Gareth has a history of doing this sort of thing - he completed 2 hundred mile events back in the States plus a bunch of other smaller ultra distances. This race is New Zealand's first hundred mile event on trails, so he was pretty stoked to take part in it.

Heading to the start line

doing great after 50k

Unfortunately, the mountains got the better of him during the night. Gareth finished his second 50K loop (110K total - 70 miles) and called it a day... He had a lovely souvenir to take home though!

Of course it was disappointing for him not to finish, but he has new found resolve for next year. Hear this mountains: Gareth will be back. And he will beat you.

Those mountains are big.

For further reading, there's a story and some great video of the race here (News 3 report).

So then we drove home, and not much to report there, except that we were caught in a sheep jam. Which of course was very cool.

So next year, we're thinking perhaps the top of the South....

Fear of city apartments

2011-04-29T13:02:00.002+12:00

You're going to think this must be fake, but it really isn't. The Press reports that young New Zealanders' worst fear is not war or financial ruin or a terrorist attack. It is being forced to live in a city apartment, away from outdoor pursuits.

New Zealand continues to amaze me.

From the Press:

The greatest fear for young New Zealanders is the prospect of living in a city apartment, a United Nations survey has found.

Eight thousand people aged 18 to 35 in 20 countries were interviewed about their hopes and fears, but young Kiwis were the only ones to list a city apartment as a major fear.

The survey was conducted before the Canterbury earthquakes but is being heralded as a guide for rebuilding Christchurch so it is suitable for young people.

The findings surprised Canterbury University academic Bronwyn Hayward, who compiled the results from 132 young Kiwis for the study.

The New Zealanders were asked to name their worst fear, with 34 per cent of respondents fearing city apartment living, 28 per cent fearing a loss of autonomy and 16 per cent fearing financial insecurity.

Hayward said young people feared apartment living because it would cut them off from outdoor pursuits.

She said the fear could be a big challenge for planners and urban designers hoping to lure young people into inner-city apartments.

"It is striking because they could have said anything, and that is what they said. It is certainly distinct from any other country," Hayward said.

"It is a real challenge for a city planner because we know the effects of urban sprawl and have seen the traffic impact of having no city centre.

"It is a huge problem. We are in danger of our planning decisions being led by international expectations."

One Kiwi student wrote in the report: "I would hate to live in a big city in an apartment, totally reliant on modern technologies with limited access to outdoor pursuits."

National MP Nicky Wagner said the findings could affect the Christchurch rebuild.

"The timing is perfect as we are looking at rebuilding Christchurch. We need to rebuild with our eyes on the future," she said.

Hayward said young New Zealanders were generally happier than young people in other countries.

"The positivity is quite remarkable.

"When you look across the 20 countries surveyed, the strong positivity of New Zealanders stands out," she said.

"What is interesting is there is a cluster of young people who feel very strongly that their life is very good.

"People felt very strongly that what they liked about living in New Zealand was their outdoor lifestyle."

Hayward said other countries in the global survey were surprised by the New Zealand fear of city apartments.

"When we presented these findings in Egypt, they said they would love to live in a country where the worst fear was being forced to live in an apartment," she said.

You can read the full UN survey report here (link to rather large .pdf file).

More holiday 2011

2011-04-22T21:04:00.015+12:00

So where were we? Oh yes, the Catlins.

But before we got there, we had to stop at Nugget Point, because there's a lighthouse there. And you can never see too many lighthouses.

The lighthouse at Nugget Point was probably the most beautiful and dramatic lighthouse we saw. It helped that it was a gorgeous sunny day.

The nuggets at Nugget Point

Driving southward, we reached our destination: Papatowai. We did circles around this little town looking for the campsite where we were intending to stay. It was shown on our map, but we could not find it anywhere. Papatowai was one of those places that you could miss if you blinked, so we knew it should not be this difficult to find our campground. We pulled into a convenience store and I went inside to ask. Inside this convenience store I came across an unexpected phenomenon: New Zealand's only rude and unhelpful storeperson. This conversation ensued:

Me: Hi! We're looking for the campground?

Rude & Unhelpful Lady: Yeah, it closed down.

Me: Oh... right... ok.

R&UL: ....

Me: Is there another campground in town?

R&UL: No.

Me: ok...

R&UL: ....

Me: I guess we'll just drive on...

R&UL: ...

Me: ... and look for another campground somewhere else...

R&UL: ....

And I left. I refuse to believe that this person working in a town of, maybe, 50 people was not aware of other places for travellers to stay. She simply did not want to help me. I was unreasonably upset by this. It kind of ruined the day for me. Gareth could not console me. It was just so weird to be not helped by someone. I guess this says a lot about the high esteem I hold Kiwis in and how nice I expect them to always be. Especially small town Kiwis. You just expect people to be nice and helpful. Not rude and unhelpful. It's quite upsetting when your view of people is shattered, isn't it?

So we drove on, hoping to find a campground in the next town. We didn't have to go very far, as it turns out. Just up the road near McLean Falls, we found McLean Falls Motels and Holiday Park.

This place was perfect for us. We were the only tent campers, so no worries about the crying baby keeping other campers awake at night. It had a kitchen and a common room, so we had some place warm and light to take the crying baby when he woke up at 5:30 a.m. AND it had a cafe! No need to make do without flat whites while camping.

And we were well positioned to check out all the waterfalls in the area. Like lighthouses, you can never see too many waterfalls.

But it wasn't all waterfalls. There were also some caves. The Cathedral Caves are at the end of a 15 minute walk down through some bush, followed by a 10 minute walk along the beach.

At the cave entrance

Deep in the cave... ooooo

You walk in one entrance, go about 100 metres, and do a U-turn, coming out another opening. It was kind of neat.

It may be that by this point in our trip, we had just seen too much natural wonder. It's hard to be in a constant state of wonderment. We were experiencing beauty overload. So it's like, "magnificent caves on the beach... meh." But no, they were lovely. I'm glad we stopped. It's never a bad idea to walk on a beach. And if there are some caves at the end, all the better.

We spent two nights in the Catlins and then felt we had done about as much as we could there with a baby. It was time to move on.

A friend had recommended we stop at Curio Bay, so we did. Curio Bay has fossilised trees. I was not expecting much, to be honest. I had been sorely disappointed by the "Petrified Forest" in northern Arizona many years before. (The Petrified Forest doesn't look anything like a forest.) So my expectations were very low. They were so low in fact that when we got there, and the baby was sleeping in his carseat, I volunteered to just wait in the car with the sleeping baby while Gareth went on his own to check it out.

He came back 10 minutes later very excited. "It's amazing!" I assumed he was joking. "No, it's really cool. Really! Go see!!" At this point, Quinn woke up. So we could all go together. Great.

But it was really cool.

Used to be a tree... now it's a rock.

There's also a penguin hide here, but we did not see any penguins. We thought we saw a penguin, and slowly crept toward it so as not to startle it, but when we got close enough we realised it was just a penguin-shaped rock.

Another great thing about Curio Bay was the giant seaweed. It was pretty mesmerising. It was like watching giant fettucine noodles sloshing back and forth in the waves. I stared at it for ages.

We left Curio Bay, two very satisfied customers.

Going to fast forward a little bit here... Slope Point, the southern most point on the South Island!

And Waipara Point - another lighthouse!

Ok, now on to Invercargill, capital of Southland...

Mick Jagger famously described Invercargill as "the arsehole of the world". Not very flattering, is it? I had had the pleasure of visiting a couple times for work, and hadn't really found anything charming about the place. I was ready to give it another chance. Gareth was also completely open minded. We were ready to love Invercargill.

Invercargill sucked.

Thank goodness we had decided to take a break from the camping and got a hotel room, because the wind and rain were relentless. We were cowering in our room listening to the howling outside, wondering why anybody ever comes to this horrid place. The weather was that awful.

The sign greeting us when we drove into town announced that Invercargill was "the friendly city". Friendly people would have perhaps saved this place. But no one was friendly. Well, the motel lady was pretty nice I guess. But everyone else seemed utterly miserable. We felt bad for them. We were just passing through, but these folks had to stay. They had to stay in a town that, evidently, closed down at 3pm on a Saturday. When the weather cleared and we tried to check out town, everything was shut. It was all very odd. The street was full of cars, but no shops were open. We found the whole experience very perplexing.

We headed to the beach. This was not a great idea either.

Gareth is about to be carried away by the wind.

We spent two nights in Invercargill (we wanted to see Bluff too). On the morning we were leaving, we were glad we had visited, but had no plans to come back soon. We made one last stop at the Farmer's Market, and so happy we did. Invercargill's Farmer's Market was awesome. Whether it was awesome in its own right, or just awesome compared to the rest of Invercargill, we can't be sure. But I do know that I had not seen a spread of baked goods quite like that anywhere else in my life. Amazing. I ate a huge baked hunk of calorific deliciousness with my flat white; Gareth got a "kebab wrap" (part kebab, part burrito, all scrumptious). Bellies full, Invercargill didn't seem all bad anymore.

Next stop: Fiordland and Central Otago.

Plucky Bakery

2011-04-14T19:48:00.004+12:00

Yesterday I had to go to the bank. This used to be a simple chore - I knew where all the banks were, and one was conveniently downstairs from my office. Not anymore. I have no office. I had no idea which branches were closed due to earthquake damage and which were still open for business. So I googled it.

The branch on Columbo Street in Sydenham was now open. This was good news - Sydenham was in the cordoned off area for some time but has recently reopened. Now I had a legitimate reason to head close to town and do some rubblenecking.

This area of Columbo Street is just devastated. At least 80% of the block seemed to be boarded up or demolished. So sad to see. But there was little ray of light.

The Sydenham Bakery is open for business! This was good news because (1) it was nearly 3pm, and I was hungry for some afternoon tea, and (2) it's good to see family businesses reopening. I walked up to the front doors but they were boarded up. A sign advised me to come round back. I followed the footpath around the block to the back of the building. There I found the bakery operating out of a tent in its back lot.

(I borrowed this photo from the Bakery's Facebook page. Go like them.)

Maybe I'm just emotionally overwrought, or maybe its the sleep deprivation that comes with a teething 10-month old, but the sight of this plucky baker doing whatever it takes to stay open brought a tear to my eye. Just lovely.

Also lovely: my chocolate caramel slice. Yum.

Holiday 2011, part 3

2011-04-09T19:28:00.010+12:00

For the next leg of our journey, we drove from Moeraki, past Dunedin City, and on to Portobello, a small village on the Otago Peninsula.

View Larger Map

There were a few good things to see along the way, so we made some stops. One of our goals this trip was to always stop and smell the roses. Or see the seals. Or taste the cheese. We did it all.

First stop: Shag Point. There are supposed to be yellow-eyed penguins here as well as seals, but we only saw seals. It was a lovely sunny day though, so even if we had seen nothing but the ocean, we wouldn't have minded. It was worth the stop.

sun bathing seal

Gareth chatted with this guy and learned he was out to look for 'penguins in distress'

Carrying on, we noted that there were two points of interest ahead. The Matanaka Homestead, dating from 1846, and the Evansdale Cheese Factory. We briefly debated the merits of both attractions, trying to decide which one to stop and see. But then we thought, hell, we're on holiday! Let's see both! Old buildings AND cheese - our sense of adventure knows no bounds.

Matanaka Homestead

Seriously, I do really like old buildings. These were on a beautiful patch of green grass overlooking the sea. The carpark was empty when we arrived (I know, you'd think there'd be hoards of people there...) and we had the buildings to ourselves. Well, just us and the sheep that were wandering around. It was well worth the stop.

Now on to the cheese.

Who could have guessed that this humble building would house the first cheese curds we have ever seen outside of Wisconsin!! (more about delicious cheese curds here) We happily handed over $7 for a small container and greedily inhaled them back in the car.

Driving on, our bellies full of cheese curds, we marvelled at how gorgeous Otago is. Otago is incredibly beautiful. Rolling green hills, dramatic coast lines. It's just gorgeous. If things don't work out for us in Christchurch, Otago is a close number 2 for me. (Gareth says the West Coast is number 2 in his heart).

Soon we arrived in Dunedin City... and drove right through it.

By now, we were eager to get to our campsite in Portobello. We'd see Dunedin later. The drive around the bay was stunning.

We set up camp in Portobello, a little town on the peninsula.

Really good fish & chips here

Around this time, we decided that we should see every lighthouse we came across. And why not? Lighthouses are cool. There are two lighthouses on the peninsula; the first is way up top at Taiaroa Head by an albatross colony. We went there first.

lighthouse at Taiaroa Head

Although the albatross are the main attraction here, we didn't see any. We had come at the wrong time of day. Also, they evidently really like to glide on the wind, so windy days are good viewing days, but this was a rare calm day. So no albatross. But we learned all about these huge birds at the informative visitor's centre. Well, informative to us lay people. We met this German tourist at our campsite who was a biology student with a keen interest in birds. We saw him at the visitor centre writing page after page of comments for the suggestion box because "there is so much more they could do here!" So I guess the quality of the visitor centre is only satisfactory if you know nothing about albatross.

Next, we headed east of Portobello toward Matakitaki Point to see lighthouse #2. The roads were narrow and winding, but the rural scenery was quite nice.

This is a windy place.

The unsealed roads aren't wide enough for 2 cars to pass.

We drove and drove along the winding, unsealed roads. It seemed like ages, but surely this lighthouse would be well worth the trip, right? Imagine our dismay when, very nearly there, we came to a locked gate blocking the way. "Private Road," it said. Apparently the only road to Matakitaki Point and its lighthouse is private. Huge bummer. Our map had really failed us this time. We turned around and headed back the way we'd come.

Next we decided it was time to do some walking. We drove toward Sandymount, where there are a few walking trails.

This view makes my heart sing

We walked about 20 minutes to the summit of Sandymount, and then toward Lovers Leap. But the Leap looked to be quite a ways away. Not in the mood for anything so strenuous, we turned back early and headed back to the car. It's not like we would have leaped anyway.

The next day was a really rainy, windy, horrible day. So we decided the time was right to go into the City and spend the day at a museum. We walked around Dunedin in the rain a bit, admiring its cathedral with its in-tact spire.

We ducked into a cafe for a pie, where we saw the most gigantic cheese roll we had seen to date.

The weather was so horrible that I couldn't even get Gareth to pause for a photo in front of Dunedin's iconic train station.

One good thing about rainy weather is that it made all the boathouses along the bay look gloomy and poetic. Just gorgeous.

Yes, I am in love with Otago and its beautiful peninsula.

Next stop: the Catlins.

Holiday 2011, part deux

2011-04-03T20:03:00.006+12:00

For the first leg of our holiday, we drove from Christchurch down to Moeraki.

View Larger Map

We were keen to see the Moeraki Boulders, these big round rocks on the beach. But we were a little annoyed to arrive there and see that someone had bought the land in front of the beached rocks. These entrepreneurs installed an ugly gift shop / cafe along with a wooden walkway to the beach. Then to be really tacky, they put out a collection box charging tourists $2 to use the walkway to go see the boulders. Because we thought this was annoying, and also because we didn't have any change, we used the walkway without paying (yeah, we're pretty badass). We slyly walked past the collection box and down to the beach.

The rocks are kind of big and round and pretty in their own way. But frankly, it wasn't that great. The photos we had seen made it look like the beach was just covered in them, but really it's a huge empty beach with only a few boulders. The photos were cooler than the real thing. Kind of a disappointment, but still worth seeing ... especially if you don't pay the $2.

By the way, we saw on our walk back that there is actually a free pathway to the boulders maintained by DOC, and DOC's track is way better as it has informative signs on it which explain how the boulders came to be there. But of course the entrepreneurs didn't signpost THAT walkway... you get to it from behind the gift shop.

Near Moeraki is Katiki Point, which has a lighthouse and a penguin colony. We headed over there to check them out.

The yellow-eyed penguin is endangered. At Katiki Point, there's a hide where they come to nest. There's a little walkway from the car park toward the sea, and you can walk along there and see penguins just on the other side of the fence!

Not taken with a zoom lens

I'm sure that you're not supposed to be this close to these adorable penguins, but the walkway is fenced on both sides and this penguin was right next to the fence. There's really no where to go to keep a respectful distance, except back to the car park I suppose. I quietly snapped a photo (no flash!) and moved on.

I think I've mentioned in past posts that we used to enjoy camping in the wilderness. We wanted to do some of that kind of camping, so we planned to spend our first night in Trotters Gorge at a DOC campsite. In hindsight, this was perhaps not the best choice we made during our holiday. Trotters Gorge is just a clearing in the bush with a muddy road running through it. There is a toilet and a sink with cold water in a dark hut up a little hill (no electricity). This would have been fine for just the 2 of us, but we've got a baby now and we have to take him with us....

Still, Trotters Gorge might have been okay if it weren't soaking wet the whole time we were there. It was just a wet, muddy mess.

That's our big blue tent - 2 rooms! It's pretty sweet. But even our awesome tent did not make conditions at Trotters Gorge bearable. Note that I took this photo the morning we were leaving: the sun finally came out after 2 nights of rain.

Despite the muddy conditions, we managed to get out and enjoy a walk through the bush.

After two nights, we were ready to move on. Next stop: Otago Peninsula.

Holiday 2011, part 1

2011-03-30T20:02:00.005+13:00

Long before the February 22nd earthquake struck, we had planned a road trip holiday around the bottom of the South Island. After the earthquake struck, we were more eager than ever to get out of town. So we did.

A few general observations from our travels:

1. Otago and Southland are incredibly beautiful. So, so, so beautiful. I probably said "stunning" about 800 times in 18 days. I took hundreds of photos. I took so many photos that by the end of the holiday I had camera fatigue and had to stop taking photos.

2. You can never see too many waterfalls.

3. You can never see too many lighthouses.

4. Camping with a 10-month old is maybe not a very good idea if you like to sleep. If, on the other hand, you think it's fun to stay up all night trying to settle a crying baby, or if you like to drive the baby around the Otago peninsula all night long, then camping with a 10-month old baby might be just the thing for you.

5. A good way to let travellers know what your town is all about is to build a giant sculpture of the thing that your town is all about.

Cromwell: we're all about fruit.

Rakaia: we're all about salmon.

6. Getting caught in a sheep jam is pretty cool.

The good, the bad

2011-03-10T20:06:00.006+13:00

In some ways, it was tough coming back to Christchurch. The airport was filled with salvation army, red cross, and search and rescue personnel again. On the way home, we drove over broken and bumpy roads that used to be smooth, past heaps of bricks that used to be buildings. And the aftershocks keep coming. We just had a doozy a moment ago. Even though we've felt thousands of them now, they still make my heart stop.

We went for a walk and looked at all the damage in our neighbourhood. Cracked streets, a polluted river (they're dumping raw sewage into it... yuk).

There is a gorgeous old brick house on the corner of Centaurus and Aynsley Terrace. I've been told that it used to be a restaurant. It's huge and stately and has beautiful gardens. It took a hit after the first earthquake but looked repairable. Now I think we can fairly say... it's munted.

fallen roof

red stickered

This is just one old brick building in a city that had hundreds of them. Virtually all of them are damaged, it seems. It's such a shame that the earthquake has taken all the character buildings, leaving the strong boring ones.

I'm trying to always remember that the story of Christchurch's earthquake is not all death and destruction. There has definitely been some good news too. For one, Christchurch's prostitutes are experiencing a boom in business. (Best line from this story: "sex worker Candice, 24, said she has been run off her feet ...")

There's been an amazing outpouring of love and generosity. From Auckland to Chicago, people are collecting money for Cantabrians. Closer to home, Quinn's daycare has offered 4 free weeks of care to Christchurch families. This is a huge savings to us - about $800. Amazing. According to their website, they're making the offer just because "it's the right thing to do." Good on them.

The newspaper is filled with stories about volunteers - the student volunteer army, the "farmy army", and others. It seems everyone is doing something to make someone else's life a little easier. In many ways, it's a great time to be a member of this community. Even if the streets are cracked and lined with port-a-loos.

Recovering

2011-03-04T19:26:00.003+13:00

We just weren't sure that our house would not fall down with every new aftershock, so we spent the first few days after Tuesday's quake staying with friends up the road. It turns out that the construction of your house can really affect your experience of aftershocks. When an aftershock hit while sitting in our house, it felt like Armageddon. When an aftershock hit while sitting in Emma's house, it felt like someone had bumped your chair. If money were no object, we'd build ourselves a nice concrete house right now.

A few months ago we had booked flights to Auckland to visit Gareth's sister and brother-in-law for the B-I-L's 40th birthday party. We had planned to only come up for the weekend, but as the weekend neared and we still had no power or water at home, we decided to extend that a bit. Thankfully, JetStar did not give us any grief about changing our tickets. I'm pretty certain the call centre lady would not have wanted to meet the can of whoop ass that Gareth was ready to deliver if she had given us any trouble.

So we went to Auckland. On the one hand, it was really, really good to be on solid ground. It was so good to hug our niece and nephew and be with family. We are so grateful for their hospitality.

On the other hand, it's hard to be away from home. Our friends and neighbours are suffering through hard times right now, and we've skipped out of town to be more comfortable. Granted, about 20% of the city has skipped town, so we're by no means unique. But there was this strange part of us that wanted to be there through this time and be a part of what's happening. And of course, no matter how gracious the hosts (and our hosts are as gracious as they come), there's no place like home. I kind of miss my bed.

I think Christchurch's earthquake has been New Zealand's 9/11. The outpouring of love and support from the rest of the country has been extraordinary. We are just 2 displaced people in Auckland, but have experienced heaps of warm fuzzies. For one, everywhere you go, there are collection boxes for Christchurch. And these boxes don't just have spare change in them. I've seen twenties.

Two colleagues from the Auckland branch of my company have offered us their houses. Friends of Gareth's sister have also offered us accommodation. The Auckland zoo gave us special discounted admission rates just because we're from Christchurch. I'm a sap at the best of times, but you know these last 9 days have been especially trying when a $4 discount reduces me to tears. Thankfully, stress relief is available: the neighbour's friend is a masseuse offering free massages to Christchurch refugees. oh yes, I'm feeling the love.

I blogged some time ago about the neighbours' cat dying on our driveway. It was awkward, and perhaps understandably, our relationship with those neighbours never got very friendly. The earthquake has completely changed all that. Karen has been calling Gareth almost daily with updates. They're holding our keys to let the EQC in, managing a contractor to remove loose bricks and weatherproof the house while we're gone, and really, just being all-around awesome. Nothing like a tragedy to bring people together.

The newspapers and other media coverage imply that there will be mass migration from Christchurch, but we don't know anyone who plans to move permanently. We certainly have no plans to leave. We're really excited to be a part of Christchurch's comeback. Strange how connected we feel to the place having only lived there for less than two years. But we've bought a home there and our son was born there, and we're not leaving.

6.3 my ass.

2011-02-25T20:11:00.006+13:00

I was at work on Tuesday afternoon, on the 8th floor of my building on Cathedral Square. I was writing an e-mail when suddenly everything started shaking. I'm used to this - we still get aftershocks all the time. I waited for it to stop. It didn't stop. Bookcases started falling over. I dove under my desk and held on.

Gareth was at home with Quinn. He had just put him down for his afternoon nap and was tucking into his lunch. Everything started shaking. Gareth tried to get to Quinn's room but was thrown around and couldn't get there before the shaking stopped.

When I came out from under my desk, every single shelving unit in our office was on its side, files everywhere. People were screaming and wailing. I looked out the window and saw that the top of the Cathedral was missing. The fire alarm was going off. Everyone was looking around in a daze. Someone said we need to get out. Someone else said no, we need to stay.

Gareth got to Quinn and saw that the bookshelf in his room had fallen over, hitting the edge of his cot, which had also moved over about a foot. Somehow, baby Quinn was still sleeping. Gareth picked him up.

There were three of us left in the office. While we had stood there in a stupor, everyone else had evacuated! We suddenly realised we were the last three there and headed for the stairwell. On our way down, we stepped over the broken glass from windows that had blown out. Eight stories is a lot of stairs. I ran down as fast as I could and tried very hard not to think about what would happen if an aftershock hit right now.

Gareth heard our neighbour calling for him and went outside with Quinn. Other neighbours were wobbling out of their houses, getting their bearings. Windows were broken, stone cladding had been shaken loose.

I got to the bottom of the stairwell (finally!) and ran out into the street. There was broken glass everywhere. Someone was shouting at me but it took a second to register. It was one of my co-workers and she was saying, "Lindsay GET AWAY FROM THE BUILDING!" Ahh, right, yes. I jogged over to her and joined everyone from my work. Lots of hugging, crying, frantic dialling of cell phones that would not connect. I kind of just stood there and stared. Someone said I looked really pale.

Gareth helped the neighbour get her car keys out of her house (she didn't want to go in alone, get stuck under falling debris, and never be found again). Then he spoke with the neighbours on the other side, and eventually joined a group that was forming across the street. They were setting up camp. It was some time before he was able to retrieve his phone from the mess in the kitchen and find that I had been trying to call and text him. He had no idea the earthquake had been as big as it was or caused so much damage until he saw my text, "the top of the cathedral fell off."

I was walking home with 2 of my workmates who also live on the south side of town. I needed to get to Gareth and Quinn. My workmate's 13 year old had gotten out of school early and she had no idea where he was. It was a very nervous time. We walked quickly. We saw liquifaction and rubble and rips in the ground where the earth had broken open.

I thought about taking photos with my phone, but couldn't do it. It was weird - I knew I'd want to remember this, and that I'd want to show Gareth what I was seeing, but I could not snap any photos. It would have been like taking a photo of a corpse or something. Too wrong. I took no photos.

I finally got a text from Gareth saying he and Quinn were ok. It didn't make my need to see them any less urgent though.

It took almost 2 hours to walk home I think, although I'm not really sure. When I had about a kilometre to go, it occurred to me that I could hitchhike. I stuck my thumb out and someone stopped, like, instantly. She drove me up the road a ways until she had to turn, and I got out and walked the rest of the way.

Gareth and Quinn were in the neighbours' yard. They were putting a tent up. Our family hug at that moment ranks in the top 5 of All Time Best Hugs.

The house looked pretty bad.

How bad do things have to move to shake sliding doors out of their frame?

We're going to have to buy some new glasses.

We have a lot of cracks like these.

These bricks should be on our house.

This is not good.

You can break our photo frame, but you can't break our love!!

One thing I've taken from this is that the Richter Scale is total bullshit. When I heard on the radio that this one was a 6.3, I thought it was a mistake. If the September earthquake was a 7.1, this one should have been an 8 or more. There was so much more damage. People died. Gareth points out that this earthquake was much more shallow and much closer to town than the September one, and that is why 6.3 was so much more tragic than 7.1.

If I had gone for a walk at lunchtime or if Gareth had come to town a little later for Quinn's lunchtime feed, things might have ended very differently for us. When we finally got power again, we were very touched to find how many friends had sent us messages on facebook and that friends we haven't even met yet had posted on our blog. Thank you for your kind words and thoughts. We are doing fine.

Blog update

2011-02-19T08:58:00.002+13:00

Freshening things up around here...

We decided that the plain green header could use some livening up. So we added a lovely photo that I took from the top of the Port Hills, looking over Lyttelton Harbour on a sunny morning. Ahh, love that view. That's better than plain green, I'd say.

I've also updated the links on the side of the page. The longer we're here, the more great things we're finding. So I thought we should link you to them. Lindreth: keeping you linked.

We just discovered yesterday that Blogger keeps track of 'stats' for the blog, and we can see how many people have visited, where they've come from, and what they're reading. Yeah, that's right, we're watching you, loyal reader from Denmark. (Halløj!)

We heard this really hilarious/awesome song yesterday and I really, really wanted to upload a sound file to the blog to share it with you. So I did some research and discovered that it is possible to do this, but it just seemed too complicated. Maybe it's not complicated at all, and maybe I'm just a bit feeble-minded. But the bottom line is there will be no sound uploads at this time.

So do this: go to iTunes and spend 99 cents to download Coco Solid's 'Girl From Where?' We think it's worth at least this much to hear this kiwi woman rap, "the best rapper in the world's a girl from New Zealand." Also this line: "I told you I'm the boss, man I'm Angela and Tony." There just aren't enough Who's the Boss? references in music these days, don't you agree?

All things bloggy

2011-02-05T19:22:00.004+13:00

Been quiet on the blog front for the last few weeks... let me catch you up.

1. Picnics.

The weather has been so nice, we've headed out for a picnic or two. We're picnicking kind of people. I suppose we probably had the picnicking spirit inside of us all along, but it seems it didn't really bubble to the surface until we moved to New Zealand. We love a picnic. Got time for that.

2. Taxation frustration.

As a U.S. citizen, I'm supposed to lodge a federal tax return no matter where I live and no matter that I've earned no money in the United States. Although foreign income is subject to U.S. taxation, it won't matter for us because our income does not reach that level that requires sharing with Uncle Sam. That's what I gather from reading the very riveting "Publication 54 (2010)" (link to IRS website). But the information available on the IRS website is incredibly dense and difficult to wade through, so it's entirely possible that I've misunderstood a key point.

Even though we won't owe any tax (I think), I'm obliged to file anyway (I think). As a former green-card-holder, Gareth has no such obligation. He technically abandoned his legal resident status once he was out of the country for 1 year.

Last year we were very keen to file a tax return because we were expecting a big refund. We had worked only the first three months of 2009, and were entitled to refunds of virtually all the tax that had been withheld. So that was nice.

For 2010, I received one late payment from my former employer in the form of a retirement account payout. The feds kept $750 of it, and we think we should be getting that back. So we're kind of keen to file again. It seems like such a pain this time around though. Maybe it seemed easier to me last year because Gareth took care of it. Now I'm in charge (how did this happen?!) and feeling rather daunted by the whole thing. It doesn't help that the IRS website contains so much information that you could just hold your finger on the scroll down button for an hour and not get through it all. And I'm not talking about the whole website; I'm just talking about the page(s) relating to U.S. citizens living abroad. Insane. There is a form I'm supposed to file called TD F 90-22.1 "Report of Foreign Bank and Financial Accounts." Seriously. How many forms does the IRS publish that they have to call one of them TD F 90-22.1?!

You can understand my frustration. This segues nicely to our next topic:

3. Beer.

You know what's really yummy? Three Boys IPA. We wish this stuff did not cost $7.50 a bottle. Because it's delicious. And it's brewed locally. Like really, really locally - less than a kilometre from our house.

Gareth is enjoying one right now. It's his little reward for running 50K this morning. Go Gareth, it's your birthday.

If you would like to do something nice for us, you can send us some of this beer.

4. He's off!

Big news on the parenting front: our little man is crawling! There must be very few things cuter than a little baby bum crab-walking across the grass, or the living room carpet, or anywhere really. So. Freaking. Cute. If it is even possible, we adore him even more.

Pigeon Bay

2011-01-18T20:54:00.004+13:00

This weekend we took the little man on his first overnight camping trip. Just in case it all went pear-shaped, we stayed fairly close to home. Just an hour and fifteen minutes' drive from Christchurch is Pigeon Bay, on the Banks Peninsula.

Pigeon Bay is right at the top in the 12 o'clock position.

There is virtually no information online about the campground at Pigeon Bay. We found a couple of blog posts by people who had visited, and not much else. All we knew before going was that there was in fact a campground there, that it charged $8 per site at one point in the past, and that there were toilets there.

The weather forecast was iffy - gale force winds predicted for saturday night. But no need to worry, Gareth said. We'll be sheltered in the bay! Ok, let's go!

We pulled in to the campground and did a drive round to check it out. What we saw was: caravan, caravan, caravan, caravan. Almost every campsite had a caravan parked in it! And these caravans were not passing through. Most had clearly been parked for a long time and would not be moving for the foreseeable future. Several had decking built up out front. One had a satellite dish. A few had "additions" built on in the form of canvas tenting. I peeked inside one and saw a fridge in there.

Kiwis take their camping very seriously.

We found a spot in between two caravans that did not appear to be occupied this weekend. We, ... er, Gareth pitched our tent.

I have tried to be positive about our camping experiences in New Zealand but the truth is that I have been a bit disappointed. Before we moved here, I imagined camping here would involve untouched wilderness with very few people nearby. So far, it's been quite the opposite in our experience. The campgrounds we've been to have been really developed with flush toilets, kitchens, and showers. Tents, campervans, and caravans are all generally parked up in one field, side by side. It's really not a wilderness experience so much as an outdoor experience... with many indoor things within reach.

To be fair, most of the people we see camping in these situations seem to be set up for long term holidaying. These people aren't just getting out for a night or two of fresh air - they often seem positioned to stay for the whole season. So you can't really blame them for wanting some of the comforts of home with them.

I'm sure the kind of camping I crave can be found in New Zealand. But maybe that kind of camping is really not practical with a 7-month baby in tow.

So Pigeon Bay's campground was ok. The sites were small and close together, with neighbors right on top of each other. It wasn't too bad though since most people were not actually there - they had just left their caravans there. There was a playground and a toilet block.

The really nice thing about the campground was that it was right on the bay. Our campsite was on water's edge. That part was really nice.

Pigeon Bay

Kicking back at camp

And it would have been even better if the wind hadn't picked up. You may note that the car is parked between our tent and the bay. This was strategic - just in case the winds were as strong as predicted, the car would give us some shelter. I should probably mention that this was Gareth's cunning plan. If it had been up to me, I would have put the tent right on the water's edge so that we could look out the tent window and see the beautiful bay. But that's me, putting the view before trivial things like shelter.

The best news was that Quinn went to sleep fairly easily in his travelcot in the tent. This meant we could sit back and enjoy the sunset with a bottle of sauvignon blanc.

Then the winds kicked in. Think Dorothy's house spiraling through the Kansas sky. That's where we thought our tent was headed - Oz. We laid awake all night listening the the THWAP THWAP THWAP of the fly against the tent. Miraculously, the tent stayed moored to the ground (maybe because Gareth had thought to park the car where he did!). Even more miraculously, Quinn slept through it. I guess it's easy to sleep when you're not worried about blowing away.

After a refreshing 25 minutes of sleep, it was time to get up. The wind was still blowing. Too windy to go for the walk along the bay as we had planned. Too windy even to set up the stove and boil some water for tea. Forget it, we said. We packed up and headed home.

Kind of a bummer. But at least we know that Quinn can sleep in the tent (at least, during a wind storm...) which will mean more camping for this little family.

EQC has been!

2011-01-10T20:11:00.002+13:00

It's been over 4 months now since our little earthquake. We lodged our claim with EQC (the Earthquake Commission) just a day or two after the main quake. At the time, we just had cracks in the interior walls, some cracks in the house cladding, and a cracked window. When asked, we said our damage was "minor" as opposed to "moderate" or worse.

But then 4 days later, on Wednesday the 8th, a big aftershock hit and knocked the stone cladding off our garage wall. There have been thousands of aftershocks since then and our damage seems to be getting a little bit worse with each one. We keep finding new cracks and asking each other, "was that there before?" Window frames are separating, new hairline cracks are appearing between the stones on the outside of the house. And it hasn't stopped - there was another big aftershock on Boxing Day which was followed by a whole buncha smaller aftershocks.

We've heard virtually nothing from EQC since lodging our claim. We know they're working though. We see them driving around in their Toyota Corollas, wearing their fluorescent yellow vests. (Why do they where fluorescent vests? We have no idea. But they all do.) They travel in pairs, like Mormon missionaries, wearing their vests, driving their Corollas, assessing the damage. So we know they're out there working. They just hadn't yet seen fit to make it to our house.

We hemmed and hawed about calling EQC to update our claim from "minor" to "moderate". Surely losing a wall qualifies as more than minor damage, right? We're not necessarily in a hurry to get the house fixed up, but sooner would be better than later, if we were given the choice. We were finally convinced to call and update the claim when some friends visited last week and said "definitely" we should do it. Well then. We would do it.

So I called EQC's hotline last week and explained the situation. I felt kind of stupid calling 4 months after the damage had been done, but she didn't seem to think it was strange at all. She just asked if we would be home through January 17th. Yes, yes one of us will be home. She then gave me an e-mail address and said to write this person, tell them about your damage, and tell them you're home and available for an inspection by January 17th. She said someone would come inspect our house by January 17th. Wow, ok. That was easy. Glad I called!

A couple days later, having had no response to my e-mail, I started to suspect that the woman on the phone had just been fobbing me off. But then on Saturday, Jeff called. I imagine that Jeff is always greeted eagerly and happily when he makes these calls. "Hello, this is Jeff from EQC, I'm calling to arrange an inspection." That's great! Thank you! "Are you available on Monday at 10 a.m.?" Yes! Of course we are! We'll be here! "It will be close to 10, right around 10, is that ok?" Yes, yes! Don't worry about it! We'll see you when you get here! Looking forward to it!!

The Corolla pulled up at 10:45 this morning. Out came two men in yellow fluorescent vests. I was actually at work but Gareth was ready and waiting to greet them, proof of insurance in hand.

They spent quite a lot of time going room to room. Gareth was very impressed with how thorough they were. And generous! Our bedroom has one small crack in the paint above the patio doors - neither of us had even noticed it. But EQC says they will pay for the whole room to be repainted. Nice.

In the end, we're getting new cladding and repairs to broken cladding. Paint and underlying paper will be stripped in the lounge, dining room, front hall, bedroom hallway, our room, and the spare room, and all will be repainted. Separated window sills will be sealed and repainted. A new window installed in the conservatory. And they're even going to paint the garage!

Gareth tried to score us a new bathroom by telling the assessors that our bathroom was beautiful and modern before the earthquake, but they weren't buying it. Apparently, earthquakes don't ever send bathroom decor back to 1972.

The way they're working it is this: if your damage is valued at less than $10,000, they'll just write you a check and you can have the repairs done yourself. If it's more than $10,000 but less than $100,000, repairs will be managed by their hired contractor who is handling all repairs. If your damage is valued at more than $100,000, then your insurance company has to be involved because they will be on the hook for the excess above $100,000.

Our assessors put us in the middle category: more than $10,000 but less than $100,000.

They were direct with us on this next point: we will be waiting a long time. It could be one or 2 years. This is no big surprise, as there is one contractor handling tens of thousands of repairs. (sidenote: it's a good time to be a builder in Christchurch!) Even if they hire every subcontractor in town, it's going to take some time. So we'll wait.

On the plus side, maybe by the time the contractor gets to us, we will have saved enough to renovate our bathroom, and we can get the whole house done in one go.

Walk to Godley Head

2011-01-02T15:44:00.005+13:00

We took a walk around Godley Head today. The weather at home was cloudy and looking like possible rain, but halfway through our walk we had the summer sun beating down on us. This again taught me a lesson I should have learned by now: always wear a hat! Even if it's cloudy!! thankfully, I had smothered myself in SPF30 before we left...

This area is just so gorgeous. We could spend every day walking around the port hills and looking down into the different bays. It seems every time we see that view, one or both of us will exclaim, "I love living here." If our move to Christchurch were a marriage, we are definitely still in the newlywed stage.

We started out at Taylor's Mistake, a cute little beach we had visited before. We set out on the coastal track which leads to the Godley Head carpark.

Near the start of the track

Old baches at Boulder Bay

Sheep at Godley Head

I'm not sure how long I can continue to blame pregnancy and childbirth for my weakness, but Quinn's only 7 months old and still breastfeeding, so I consider that it's still fair play. So, this walk was really hard for me. I blame pregnancy and childbirth. Gareth had a horrible night's sleep and seems to be coming down with Man Flu, and he was carrying Quinn on his back, but still had an easier time of it than I did. Of course, it was just the uphill parts that were hard. The downhill parts were cruisy.

An uphill part: "c'mon Linds. Keep up."

We made a loop of it by coming back via the summit track, which was sign-posted from the carpark. I had hoped that the carpark would be the highpoint and that it would be downhill back to the beach, but no luck. There was more uphill. But then there was flat track and then down hill. And it was all gorgeous.

Looking down from where we just came

If you are the kind of person who likes to walk barefoot, we would not recommend walking this particular trail barefooted. Because you will step on sheep poo. Lots and lots of sheep poo.

Lyttelton Harbour

Back at Taylor's Mistake

The DOC signs said the walk to Godley Head would take 90 minutes, and that the walk back along the summit track to Taylor's Mistake would also take 90 minutes, but we did the whole thing in 2 hours. This shows once again that DOC's walking time estimates generally only apply to the most crippled person in your group.

Boxing day

2010-12-28T20:15:00.004+13:00

Christmas was mayhem ...

With our niece and nephew visiting, we had three children under 4 in the house. It's like Toys 'R' Us exploded in our living room.

But now we get to celebrate Boxing Day, aka December 26th. In Christchurch, the place to be on Boxing Day is, evidently, Hagley Park. We headed there along with the rest of the city, their coolers and their picnic blankets.

Christchurch has a picnic

The park was full of families playing and picnicking. It was really a beautiful sight. There certainly are some benefits to having christmas in the summertime.

Hagley Park has a paddling pool which was just chocka full of screaming toddlers. Our niece and nephew joined in. Quinn had a wee paddle, but is still a bit too small for this particular kind of fun.

But then the water fun ended abruptly when this man came out and set up his sign:

We watched as he put on his hip-high waders and walked the length of the paddle pool with his net, looking for poos.

Happy christmas!

Tomato forest

2010-12-17T20:53:00.002+13:00

Remember our little seedlings?

Well, they've grown a bit... into a freaking tomato forest.

These tomato plants are nearly 5 feet tall. They would probably take over the yard if we left them unattended over a long weekend. When Gareth approaches to water them in the morning, he hears a faint cry of "FEED US!!"

We haven't actually harvested anything yet, but we are rubbing our hands together with great anticipation. Roll on the tomato soup, the tomato sauce, the salsa ...

The tomatillo plants have completely gone gangbusters. We're going to have enough tomatillos to start our own salsa verde business on the side.

It's no wonder they call this place the Garden City.

Incongruity

2010-12-06T20:50:00.004+13:00

Saturday was a great day. The weather was fantastic - we went for a walk on the beach and had fish 'n' chips outside for lunch. I got a little sunburnt.

Then we came home and ... put up the christmas tree.

The birds start singing at 4 a.m. these days (you know these things when a certain baby has you up at all hours) and it doesn't get dark outside until almost 10. The days are looooong.

So we've put up this beautiful fake christmas tree, but barely have enough darkness to enjoy its twinkling lights. Although, in this case, that's probably a good thing because our cheap-ass Warehouse christmas lights barely twinkle at all and half of one of the strings doesn't even light up. That's what you get for shopping at the Warehouse (New Zealand's Wal-Mart, without the poor employment practices).

Also on Saturday I did yard work - sitting on the grass in the sun, pulling weeds and dead-heading the rose bushes. OMG we have so many roses. One of our rose bushes has almost certainly reached critical mass. Peach roses, white roses, light pink roses, hot pink roses. So many roses. And heaps of other flowers (or weeds? who can tell) all blooming and glorious. I filled our entire green organics bin trying to tidy it all up. And then for dinner, we barbequed. Salmon and shrimp: om nom nom.

Then on Sunday we went to our friends' house for more bbq'ing. Burgers, sausages, my awesome potato salad (well, Gareth thinks it's awesome).

We used a lot of sun cream this weekend. And we did some christmas shopping and wrapping.

And there is our christmas tree- reminding us that it's christmas time, but it's summer, but it's christmas time...

This photo was taken at 8:30 at night...

Quack

2010-11-25T21:04:00.005+13:00

The other night we were eating dinner when we noticed two ducks watching us from the patio.

It was a little odd and unnerving. What did they want? Were they begging for food? Did they want to come inside and hang out with us?

It was about this time last year when I blogged about ducks hanging out on rooftops and chimneys. I guess this is the time of year when Christchurch ducks get a little strange.

Maybe they just wanted to meet Quinn.

Why is that duck looking at me?

Franz Josef

2010-11-24T19:29:00.006+13:00

So then we went to the Franz Josef glacier, about half an hour south of the Okarito turn-off.

Incidentally, in America they say "glay-sher". In England, they say "glass-ier". Poor Gareth, a man who has perhaps moved countries one too many times, could not remember which was the "right" way to say glacier. It sometimes came out "glash-ier" - a pronunciation that no one uses. But maybe it'll catch on.

Here are some photos...

We were interested to learn that this glacier is bucking the global warming trend and actually advancing. This sign explained,

Despite small advances about every 20 years, the glacier has generally retreated for most of the last century. However, over the last 25 years the glacier has been in a state of advancement. Will the climate here become so warm that the glacier will disappear completely? Or will there be another Ice Age with the glacier reaching over Sentinel Rock once again?

Someone told me that the west coast glaciers are advancing and the east coast glaciers are retreating. I have not fact-checked this.

You can't actually walk up and touch the glacier unless you are with a guided group. In other words, you can't go on the glacier unless you pay. We were happy to have a look from a safe, free distance.

Quinn was pretty tuckered out by the end of the long walk...

Okarito

2010-11-14T20:05:00.011+13:00

This weekend we ventured West to Okarito, a teeny tiny town on the west coast of the South Island, pop. 30. It's about 1 1/2 hours south of Hokitika. There are no stores or restaurants in Okarito, not even a dairy. When we booked our cottage, the hosts said to make sure we bring everything we need, because there are no services in Okarito. Nothing. Nada. The closest town with gas or milk is Franz Josef, about 30 minutes further south.

the road to Okarito

So we booked this cottage (called "Kiwi Cottage") for the weekend. The host said that when we arrived, the key would be in the door and we could let ourselves in. This gave us some indication as to the laid-back nature of Okarito. We were loving it before we even arrived.

Okarito did not disappoint. It's a lovely little village with a few historical buildings, a huge lagoon, a beautiful beach, and nice walks in the bush.

Albert's Hut - Albert either lives here or just keeps his toilet here; we're not sure.

our cottage

historic hostel

We feel pretty far away from the world living in New Zealand, but staying in Okarito brought us that "far away" sensation on a whole new level. We had no tv, no radio stations, no cell phone reception. There was nothing to do but walk, kayak, and read. We walked, we read, but we did not kayak because Quinn is still a bit too little for that kind of adventure.

We walked up to the "Okarito Trig" - a triangulation point put in place by early settlers. It's on top of a hill. One thing we have learned from our walking in New Zealand is that kiwis will just not be bothered with switchbacks. Why waste time zig-zagging back and forth up a hill when you can just walk straight up? Just when I was starting to think I'd rather go back down then keep going up, we reached the top. It was a beautiful view of the Tasman Sea, the Okarito Lagoon, and in the other direction, mountains. (But we had to use our imagination to see the mountains; they were covered in low clouds.)

walking up the trig track

view from the top of Trig track

walking on the beach

the wharf

a wild friday night in our Okarito cottage

As we were told there would be no services, we were pleasantly surprised to find that the place renting kayaks was also open for coffee. It really says a lot about New Zealand's obsession with coffee: even the tiniest town on the map has its own espresso machine.

Unfortunately, it was not all fun and games in Okarito. First, there was a mosquito in our bedroom - both nights - who would not die. Worse, this mosquito waited until we were just about to drop off to sleep and then started buzzing around our nose and eyeballs. I jumped out of bed the 2nd night and flipped the lights on (much to Gareth's irritation) and smacked the sucker dead, I thought. But then just as I was dropping off to sleep again, the bzzzzzzz was right there in my eyeballs once again. I suppose where there's a lagoon, there are mosquitoes.

More seriously, there was a fatal accident along the Okarito-Forks road on the Saturday night. I put Quinn in the car to go for a short drive (a sure-fire way to get a sleepy baby refusing to sleep to fall asleep). Just a few hundred metres past the lagoon, there was a campervan on its side and a white sheet on the ground with feet sticking out of it. A sobering sight, as you can imagine. The accident made the news, as we thought it would, since tourists don't die here too often.

We also visited Franz Josef glacier on this trip, but I'll post pictures of that separately.

We were welcomed home tonight by a cheeky little 4.9 magnitude aftershock. Ahhh, it's good to be home...

Earthquake wine

2010-11-11T20:24:00.003+13:00

The long weekend is here! Tomorrow is Canterbury Anniversary Day, a regional holiday. So it's as good a time as any to crack open the earthquake wine...

The Day the Ground Moved Like Jelly, a Marlborough sauvignon blanc, was produced to raise money for Canterbury earthquake recovery:

At 4.35am, September 4, 2010, the province of Canterbury was rocked by a 7.1M earthquake causing massive and widespread damage to property and the landscape. The rest of the country rallied around to offer support and much needed financial aid. This wine is part of that fundraising effort.

Thank you Mud House Wines, we're enjoying this refreshing glass of white very much.

Happy Canterbury Day :-)

Now panic

2010-11-04T19:53:00.005+13:00

Shortly after the earthquake, someone painted a reassuring message on a fence near where we live:

Keep Calm and Carry On

As Wikipedia explains, this was "a poster produced by the British government in 1939 during the beginning of World War II, intended to raise the morale of the British public under the threat of impending invasion." Evidently, the saying experienced a resurgence in the last decade. There's a store here in Christchurch selling all kinds of things -- mugs, aprons, ashtrays -- with the slogan on it.

So it was nice to see it alongside St Martins Road after the earthquake as a reminder that we should just, well, keep calm. And carry on.

But now someone has vandalised the vandalism.

Not sure if this new slogan will catch on.

Band Together

2010-10-24T11:32:00.005+13:00

Would you believe we are still getting aftershocks? It's been almost 2 months since the Big One on the 4th of September. We are up to something like 2,200 aftershocks since then. There was a big one (5.0) just this week. I was at work -- on the 8th floor -- when everything started shaking. Thankfully, no more real damage was done, unless you count the damage to our nerves.

The people in charge of things realise that these constant earthquakes are driving the citizenry batty. They want to make us happy and help us relax. So last month they gave away free tickets to a Canterbury rugby game.

Anyone who wanted to go could just show up and get in for free. We already had season tickets, and were planning to go anyway, so this wasn't really a windfall to us. But it was really fun to go to a game with a packed-out stadium. The Canterbury team doesn't usually bring 'em in by the thousands but it did that day. And it was Quinn's first rugby game. As you can see, he was stoked.

That was last month. Aftershocks are still happening. People need more help to relax and unwind. So yesterday the city put on "Band Together", a free concert for Canterbury. It was held in Hagley Park. It was HUGE. Really, really huge. They said there were 120,000 people there - that's about a third of the whole city. Lots and lots of people.

It was a gorgeous day to sit in the park and listen to music, so we packed up the baby and headed out there to join the crowds.

Quinn was very excited for his first bus ride.

... ok, not that excited. But he perked up when we got to the park. So much to see! There were people as far as we could see. We found a little patch of grass and made ourselves comfortable.

All of New Zealand's biggest musical acts were there, and some smaller ones too. We had heard of the Exponents - their song Why does love do this to me was the theme for All Blacks rugby last season and is quite catchy. We heard Anika Moa, a singer/songwriter and Christchurch native. We also heard something called the Swarm Dance Crew, who might have been American because they kept saying, "helloooo Canter-bare-eee!" (rather than "Canter-bree").

There was a band from Nelson (top of the south island) called Minuit who were pretty good and reminded Gareth of Catatonia, one of his faves. So that was good too.

Then the Feelers came on, apparently a popular act as many people seemed to be singing along. We were not familiar though and did not know the words.

I don't think we can be true Kiwis until we learn the local music. We really need to learn the music. Going to this concert was a good start. We should get online and find us some MP3's to download...

Stuff

2010-10-17T19:36:00.005+13:00

As our most loyal reader (my mom) pointed out today, the blog has been quiet... there's no particular reason for this.

We had our first visitor from America recently, my little sister. Her visit was much too short, but that's what you get when your visitors come from a country where employers can legally give their staff only 2 weeks holiday per year ... . We introduced my sister to the afternoon coffee break, the flat white, and the savoury muffin. She was quick to assimilate.

In other news, we have found our running feet again! A couple years ago in the States, Gareth and I were both regular runners. Gareth completed a bunch of ultramarathons, I completed one regular marathon and a bunch of 5Ks. Gareth ran pretty fast, but I just kind of trotted along and tried not to get beaten by the speed walkers. We both liked to run.

The wheels kind of fell off when we went on our Farewell Tour last April. Actually, my left wheel had fallen off earlier than that, as I got plantar fasciitis. That sucked. It still bugs me from time to time.

But anyway, then I got pregnant and couldn't run. (Nevermind that Paula Radcliffe ran a 45-minute 10K when she was 7 months pregnant...) Gareth did some running but was not really in his prime.

And then Quinn was born, and we couldn't run then, because we were pretty insanely tired.

But now Quinn is 4 1/2 months old and things are getting back to normal. We're very excited to be back into running again.

For Gareth, motivation came from an advertisement for New Zealand's first 100-mile race, the Northburn Station 100 miler. He was stoked. He asked me if he could pretty please sign up for it, and of course I said that would be fine. And then he told me the entry fee is $300... ouch.

This could be something to put in the "It Was Better In America" column. America had more ultramarathons (and other running races), the entry fees were way more affordable, and you got more stuff for your money. Gareth did some races for half the price of the Northburn race and got great schwag like tech t-shirts, duffel bags, fleece jackets, running sleeves, and gaiters. Not to mention heaps of food and drink along the course. As far as we can tell, your entry fee here gets you... entered.

On the other hand, the scenery here probably cannot be beaten. Check out our earlier post with Gareth's photos from the Avalanche Peak race... gorgeous. The Northburn race looks like it's going to be similarly stunning.

Not to be outdone, I've entered a race too! It's not quite as exciting as a brutal ultra-distance mountain race, but I'm sure the Corporate Challenge 5K around Hagley Park next month will be off the chain in its own way.

Foiled by Customs

2010-10-04T20:03:00.004+13:00

When we lived in America, we were members of the R.E.I. co-op. It was one of our favourite places to shop. We miss R.E.I. We have not found New Zealand's version of R.E.I., Kathmandu, to be a satisfactory substitute.

So as members of R.E.I., we get dividends. Our dividend last year was over $200. We were very excited to spend our free money on R.E.I. goodies. We ordered heaps of stuff online, exceeding our dividend budget a tiny bit...

Of course, R.E.I. does not ship to New Zealand. (No one ships to New Zealand.) Lucky for us, my little sister has a part-time job at R.E.I. in Chicago. So we had our stuff shipped to her store, and arranged for her to ship the goodies to us. She shipped it about 5 weeks ago. We waited anxiously for our box to arrive.

We waited. We waited.

Then last week we got this letter in the post from New Zealand Customs Service:

"On 01 September 2010 we wrote to you concerning a parcel or packet sent to you from overseas that has been processed by New Zealand Customs Service. The item is still being held by New Zealand Post pending Customs release."

What?! We had not received any letter.

I called the phone number on the letter. I said who I was and that I had this letter. Oddly enough, the man who answered the phone said, "Wow, you got that letter already? I just sent that to you yesterday..." Only in New Zealand can you call a government office and be recognised by the person on the other end of the phone. Seriously, when does that ever happen?

Anyway, the nice Customs Official explained that the 1st September letter was accidentally sent to the wrong address. So he sent us the second letter. It turned out, we owed money.

$114.35! That's an import duty, GST on the import duty, an import transaction fee, GST on the import transaction fee, a biosecurity levy, and (you guessed it) GST on the biosecurity levy. $114.35!!! How can this be??

Here's how it can be: When shipping our R.E.I. goodies, my sister ticked the "merchandise" box instead of the "gift" box on the customs form. Apparently, you pay import duties on merchandise, but not on gifts. Kind of a pisser, really. Adding insult to injury, we were charged duty fees not only on the value of the goods shipped (declared as US$200), but also on the cost to ship those goods (US$57.60). Something about that just doesn't seem right. But we were not about to fight The Man, even a nice one who remembered sending us a letter.

Rapaki track

2010-09-25T12:22:00.007+12:00

The Rapaki Track is a gravel path that runs from the bottom of the port hills on the south side of the city up to Summit Rd. From home to the top of the track and back is about 10K. Gareth has run this route heaps of times. I've done it twice: once while 6 months pregnant, and this morning. I think this track would be much easier when not 6 months pregnant or pushing a baby buggy...

Gareth ran to the track and I drove there with Q. I was still sorting out the buggy and other baby accessories when Gareth caught up with us.

And then we were off! Gareth ran, I walked with the buggy.

The trail goes UP. It's not a terribly steep incline, but when you're pushing a buggy, you notice it. And the gravel just created more drag, making it even harder. I had hoped to make it to the top, but soon decided it wasn't going to happen. I told myself, Just reach that green bench and then you can turn around.

If you click on this picture to embiggen, you can probably see it's engraved, "rest and be thankful". I thought that was nice. The view looking back down was rather nice too.

And then a lady passed us coming the other direction, looked at me struggling to push the buggy uphill and said, "Wow, you must be very dedicated to exercise! Good job!" Well, I had to keep going after that.

You may have heard there are sheep in New Zealand.

We saw some sheep.

This is the part where it gets really tough. You can see the end now, and it's all up from here. But the end is so close. Must keep going!

Because when you make it to the top, here's your reward:

This is the view from Summit Rd, looking over to the other side of the port hills toward Lyttelton and Diamond Harbour. I love this view.

As Q and I were about to turn around to head back down, we saw Gareth running toward us. He had been covering other trails in the hills (he's a madman, you know).

Lambs in sweaters

2010-09-23T18:09:00.004+12:00

Last month we took a trip to Kaikoura. On the drive home, we took a detour to check out a beach. On the detour, we passed many sheep. Heaps of sheep, you might say. Some of the sheep had lambs.

As we were driving along, I saw a lamb with a sweater on. This conversation followed:

Me: That lamb had a sweater on - how cute!

Gareth: What?! Lambs don't wear sweaters. They're covered in wool. They have permanent sweaters on.

Me: Well, this lamb had a sweater on.

Gareth: No it didn't.

Me: I know what I saw!!

Gareth continued heckling me all the way to the beach. We saw the beach (it was just okay) and then turned around to head back to the main road.

Me: I hope those lambs with sweaters are still by the road when we go by...

Gareth: Yeah, it'd be a shame if they went back to the barn to change clothes ...

Well, the lambs in sweaters did move on. They weren't there any more. Gareth took this as evidence that I'd imagined the clothed lambs. But I remained firm in my conviction. I saw lambs in sweaters.

Fast forward to this week.

There's been a terrible snow storm in the southern part of the South Island. It's horrible. It's the height of lambing season right now so sheep farmers were hit pretty hard. Reportedly, tens of thousands of lambs perished. They keep showing footage on tv of farmers throwing lamb carcasses on conveyor belts, and dead lambs being dropped on top of big piles of more dead lambs. Totally gruesome. But that's not the point.

Look at this photo, published in the New Zealand Herald online ("Blizzard brings call for disaster recognition"):

Lambs wearing ... well, jackets. Or capes. Close enough!

I win!

Spring flowers

2010-09-17T15:17:00.005+12:00

It's spring in Christchurch! Relentless earthquake shakes are getting us down. Let's stop and take a moment to smell the flowers...

These are all in our own yard. But flowers aren't the only things growing - our veggie patches are officially underway!

Beans, tomatoes, corn, courgette (zucchini). Oregano, basil, thyme. Rocket (arugla), spinach, tomatillo. Oh yes, you heard me right: tomatillo.

Wow

2010-09-14T19:24:00.004+12:00

From Stuff:

Environment Minister Nick Smith said the earthquake had released energy equivalent to 1000 Hiroshima atomic bombs.

"Engineers measure earthquakes by ground horizontal acceleration levels because it is these which actually cause damage to buildings," he said.

"The Canterbury earthquake recorded accelerations of 1.26 times gravity - it's like tipping up a building like this Parliament on its end and then putting it back again."

Dr Smith said those levels were the highest recorded in New Zealand and only very few of that size had been recorded globally.

Yeah, so that's pretty crazy. You know what else is crazy? There have been 556 aftershocks since last Saturday. You can follow along here or here.

Thankfully, they're slowing down. These graphs show the aftershocks from the last 24 hours (top) and since The Big One (bottom):

(a bigger version of this is here)

Earthquake survival kit

2010-09-08T19:42:00.004+12:00

We're all shook up.

Aftershocks at 7:45 this morning left us with this:

The epicenter for this aftershock was practically in our backyard, and quite shallow, so even though this only registered as a 5.1 on the Richter scale, it felt much stronger. And it did as much or more damage than the original quake did - including knocking all these bricks off our house. All our picture frames were on the floor again (we haven't bothered putting them back up this time), the mayo jar tipped over in the fridge again. Our dining table moved a few inches, as did our big heavy desk. It's a small miracle that more things aren't broken. We only lost my Mexican 'circle of friends' candle holder; may it rest in peace.

There have been something like 250 aftershocks measuring 3.0 or more since Saturday morning. 250!!! We feel them all day and they wake us at night. We're getting a little batty.

Thankfully, we have our own version of an earthquake survival kit.

Every night this week, we've treated ourselves to red wine and Whittaker's chocolate. It settles the nerves. Sort of.

By the way, there were 2 more aftershocks in the 10 minutes it took me to write this post.

Earthquake

2010-09-05T11:15:00.007+12:00

You may have heard we were a little shaken up here yesterday morning....

I had put the baby back to sleep after a feed and had just fallen back asleep myself. Suddenly, everything was loud and moving. I'm not really sure what we did. I think I said, "earthquake!" and ran to Quinn's room. Gareth looked out the windows. We obviously need some civil emergency training.

It was 4:35 in the morning and still dark. Gareth said he could see strange lights on the hills behind us, like the aurora australis or something. Probably electrical transformers blowing out?

After about 3 hours (okay, 40 seconds) the shaking stopped. My heart pounded out of my chest. I leaned my forehead against the door frame, panting. Quinn still slept.

Gareth called out from the dining room that the house was trashed. But it really wasn't that bad at all. Pictures had been thrown askew, some jumped off the wall. Stuff fell off the bookcases. The jar of mayo was on its side in the fridge...

We had no power so as soon as the sun came up, we bundled up and went out for a walk. No sense sitting in a cold dark house. We saw lots of people outside talking with their neighbors on the driveway. We saw people out running and biking or walking their dog. We saw almost no earthquake damage. One fallen chimney, one toppled fence. That was about it.

The power came back on around midday and we turned the tv on. This was when we realised that something huge had happened. We saw scenes of total destruction.

Now we're feeling a huge sense of disconnect as we watch the images of our city on tv and the internet. Our neighborhood looks completely normal. Yet all around us there's rubble and liquefaction.

Out there:

Here:

Out there:

In here:

We were so, so lucky.

The aftershocks keep coming. Just felt one as I was typing this. After 30 hours of them, they've gone from terrifying, to worrying, to just annoying. Stop moving, earth. Just stop it now.

My work is in the middle of the city. Judging from what we see on tv, that area was hit pretty hard. I don't know yet if my building is ok, but I suspect it will be as it's sort of newish, at least, new enough to be prepared for earthquakes. I just got a text telling me that we're closing for the week, and "You will be paid."

The prime minister was on tv last night to assure the people of Christchurch that the damage will be covered. We learned there is an Earthquake Commission in New Zealand. Everyone who has house or contents insurance will have their claims paid by the Commission. Mr Key told us that the Commission will cover the first $100,000 of each claim, and our insurance company will pay any claims over and above that amount. (We have nowhere near $100,000 in damage). So that sounds pretty good to us.

So our family is safe, the minor damage to our house will be taken care of, and I get a one-week paid holiday. All's well.

Diamond Harbour

2010-08-26T19:46:00.004+12:00

I worked a short week this week and started the weekend early. Four day weekends: nothing wrong with that.

It was a nice day so we decided to take a little trip across Lyttelton Harbour to the town of Diamond Harbour. Here's a bird's eye view of the town, from its website. It's just a short ferry ride away.

I really like going to Lyttelton (we may have mentioned in the past how much we like Lyttelton). It's a working port, so you can see giant ships hauling stuff around. Coal, containers, logs. Lots of logs. I said, "I wonder where all the logs came from?" Gareth, ever so smart, replied: "Trees."

We weren't really sure where to go when we got off the ferry. We followed a lady who seemed to be walking with a purpose. She led us to a parking lot, where she got in her car and drove away. We had not done any research before going and really weren't sure where we were going or what we would do. We walked uphill and eventually came to what we suppose was the town centre. It had a "country store", a cafe, and a real estate office, and the smallest post office I'd ever seen (Gareth says he's seen smaller).

There was also this place, Godley House, which seems to be the main attraction.

It's a big house with a nice garden out back. It's a B&B, and it appears they also hold functions like weddings there. There's a cafe too, so we got some coffees and sat for a bit. My drink of choice right now: a trim cappuccino. Gareth's: a flat white. They're almost the same thing - I think the flat white just has less milk and no froth.

We then left Godley House and started wandering around. We found a nice trail that followed the edge of the harbour.

The trail led us right back to the ferry landing, and just as the ferry was approaching. What luck! A nice afternoon trip was had by all, although Quinn missed most of it as he was sleeping. He sleeps through all the good stuff it seems...

A walk on the beach

2010-08-20T19:20:00.004+12:00

If there was some better way to spend my last day as a stay-at-home mum, I don't know what it could have been.

Shift change

2010-08-19T09:53:00.003+12:00

The shift change happens this weekend. Gareth's last day of work is tomorrow, my first day back at work is Monday. Poor little Quinn is not going to have any idea come Monday morning why the One With The Boobs has left him, but we know he'll enjoy his time with the One With The Beard.

We are very lucky that my employer has encouraged me to work from home. In a conversation that may make my boss the greatest boss ever, she told me she knows how hard it is to go back to work with a new baby at home, and that I should work from home as much as I can. My job requires me to be in the office at least 1 day a week, and probably 2 days. But I should be able to work 2 or 3 days a week at home. We've bought a little desk for the spare room and I'm ready to set up my home office in there.

I know it's possible to work and breastfeed. All you need is some determination and a good breast pump. But how much easier will it be to continue breastfeeding if we can eliminate the middle man? Instead of pumping milk into bottles for Gareth to feed the baby, I can pump it directly into the baby. So much simpler. We really are lucky.

Gareth's super excited to take over the at-home parent gig. He's got big plans, including new veggie patches, runs with the buggy, and Monday man-dates with a daddy friend. My own plans for all I'd accomplish while at home did not really pan out. I thought I'd be climbing the Rapaki track every day, losing all the baby weight, and catching up with friends and family on Skype. Instead, I've climbed the Rapaki track 0 times (although there's a mean hill nearby that I go over once or twice on most of our walks, so that counts for something...), still have 20lbs to lose, and have been miserable at keeping up with friends and family in America (sorry guys). I spend most of the day feeding the boy, trying to get him to sleep, or thinking he is going to wake up at any minute. Hopefully Gareth will have more luck with his plans than I've had with mine.

I'm excited to get back to work and find out if my brain still works. Fingers crossed! But I'm also a little sad that my time as a stay-at-home mum is coming to an end. So long, Tuesday morning walks through the park with the boy and a cuppa.

Kaikoura

2010-08-15T17:51:00.007+12:00

We took our first family trip this weekend: an overnight visit to Kaikoura. It's about 2 1/2 hours north of Christchurch, on the east coast. Perhaps this map will help illustrate:

View Larger Map

Kaikoura is known for whale watching, but we didn't do that. We just looked around a bit and visited a seal colony. Here's an overview of the town, as seen from a lookout point.

The seals are right there on the beach. You can walk right up to them and poke them in the face if you want to (not recommended). It's crazy. There were signs asking visitors to stay at least 10 metres away, but no one did. Not that people were touching the seals or anything, but they could have. The seals didn't seem too worried though.

Quinn wasn't terribly impressed.

We had heard there were gorgeous mountains nearby, but it was a cloudy afternoon and we couldn't see much. And then suddenly, the clouds broke and we saw them. Wow.

I mean, WOW.

Driving back south to Christchurch, we stopped a couple times to look out at the sea. It was particularly moody looking. Rain is so much more beautiful on a sea coast than inland.

Plus one

2010-08-13T17:21:00.002+12:00

It's been reported today that New Zealand's population grew by 51,900 people in the year ending June 30th. That brings us up to 4.37 million. That's the whole country. For comparison, the Phoenix Metropolitan Area has an estimated 4.28 million people (wiki source). The story is in Stuff.

Quinn was one of those 51,900. :)

Mouse in the house

2010-08-09T08:24:00.003+12:00

One of the joys of having a new baby in the house is getting up at all hours to feed him. I haven't seen 2 a.m. this often since I was in college. But if it hadn't been for these night time feeds, we would not have discovered our nonpaying tenant. We have a mouse in our house.

I first saw it about 4 weeks ago. I switched on the kitchen light in the middle of the night and saw a small shadow race across the floor. I thought it must have just been a shadow.

A few days later, the same thing happened again, only this time, the shadow had a tail and ran under the dishwasher. A mouse!

I told Gareth he would need to take care of this. Mouse removal is clearly a husband/father duty. But he did not immediately take care of it - I suppose because he's been busy doing everything for the household short of breastfeeding the baby. The mouse must have heard that we were going to come after it though, because he laid low for awhile there.

And then he reappeared this week. He's back, and he's bolder. I saw him race across the living room floor while we were watching tv the other night. And then when I was up at 2:30 last night, I saw him run from the living room, around the dining table, and into the kitchen. He ran around the dining chairs like he had done it a thousand times, like it was a well-travelled route back to home base. This mouse has gotten too comfortable. He must be dealt with.

I said to Gareth this morning that, while not happy to have pests of any kind living in our house, the mouse is heaps better than the cockroaches we had in Arizona. There are enormous, flying cockroaches in Arizona. We would be woken at night by the cat meowing at them (a good cat would have killed the roach; ours just alerted us to its presence and waited for us to smack it with a shoe.) There are few things more gruesome than a giant roach whizzing by your head, or the loud crunch of its body when you smash it dead. (Shudder.) I had no urge to retch when I saw the little mouse. I did not want to scream, or jump up on a chair, or wake up Gareth to save me. I just thought, "A mouse. huh."

Gareth pointed out, though, that the cuteness of mice will make it harder to kill them. True, I said, that will probably make it harder for you... When it's time to kill the mouse, I will probably be busy nursing the boy.

(Incidentally, World Breastfeeding Week just ended, and August is National Breastfeeding Month in the U.S. "Breastfeeding: it's what your bazongas are for." Thanks to Cara for the link.)

Maori language week

2010-07-31T17:12:00.009+12:00

It's Maori language week again (just finished actually, I think). I tried to participate by tuning in for Te Karere on channel 1 a few times this week. This is the Maori news show. I suspect "Te Karere" means "our news" but that's just an educated guess...

I listened carefully to the news presenter, but pretty much all I understood was "kia ora" (hello) and then the place names. So it was, "Kia ora. Blah blah blah Hokitika blah blah Rotorua." English subtitles would really be helpful here guys, but I guess I'm not really the target audience. Apparently, you can get subtitles if you watch it online. Even though I can't understand, it's interesting to just hear the sounds of the language and watch the images. You can get an idea of what is important to Maori by what they're reporting.

I was able to gather that there was some sort of haka competition going on this week. There was a lot of footage of kids performing hakas on stage. I did a google search and discovered that indeed there was a competition - the National Secondary Schools Kapa Haka Championships 2010, in Rotorua. The performances are amazing to watch, especially the facial expressions. Start with bad-ass facial tattoos (or, in a pinch, apply black make-up to look like tattoos). Then open the eyes real wide and bug them out a bit, for a sort of "I'm insane!" look. Then stick the tongue out - waaaay out, Gene Simmons style, for a "I'm dangerously insane!!" look. The result: pure intimidation.

The men have tattoos on their faces and thighs. The women paint their lips black and have tattoos on their chins.

Te Karere showed lots of videos from the competition, and you can watch them on its website but you have to watch adverts first. I couldn't find much of it on You Tube, but did find this one:

The video is not very easy to see, but if you go to this website you can see some great photos from an earlier competition.

Peace and trustworthiness

2010-07-22T14:38:00.003+12:00

I read today that New Zealand ranked #1 on the Global Peace Index. That's first out of 149 countries. First is good. We got points for respecting human rights, political stability, and the low potential of a terrorist attack, among many other factors. Hooray New Zealand.

For comparison, the United States ranked #85 and the United Kingdom ranked #31. Iraq came in last place. Go here to read more about it.

We also learned this week that people with full beards are very trustworthy. This chart says so:

Gareth was pleased.

One year in

2010-07-09T13:48:00.004+12:00

We've been in New Zealand a year (and some)! Thought we'd share our thoughts about this important anniversary. A bit late, yes, but, well, we've been sorta busy...

Me: I'm blogging about our one-year anniversary in New Zealand. Your thoughts on living here after a year?

Gareth: [two thumbs up]

Gareth is a man of few words. I'll fill in the details.

One year in and we are still very happy with our decision to immigrate. It feels both like we've always been here and like this year has flown by. Where has the time gone?

The fact that I was pregnant for most of our first year really limited our ability to explore our new home. We took a couple small trips during the early months, but have barely been outside Christchurch for ages now (it seems). I for one am getting really antsy to get out and see more of the South Island. Strictly from an exploration perspective, it does feel sometimes that this year has kind of been wasted, but of course, growing a little man and giving birth to him is not wasted time...

One year in, I'm annoyed that books are so expensive. We recently spent $40 for a paperback book. This is insanity. No paperback book should cost $40. Clearly, we need to find a good second hand book store. At this point though, we are still just re-reading our old books rather than buy new ones (the $40 one was a gift), but eventually, one day, we will want to buy a new book. With the arrival of the baby, that day will probably be a long ways off though. Who has time to read? I barely have time to shower.

Although we have adopted some Kiwi sayings and pronunciations, people ask us all the time where we are from. I get asked if I'm American or if I'm Canadian, or like today, simply "You have an accent there...?" Gareth has probably jumped countries one too many times, as people can't tell if he's Welsh, English, Canadian, or American. This is a constant reminder that we don't totally fit in because we talk funny. We don't mind though.

We've now had a chance to experience the healthcare system, and we give it good marks. Although we had a couple complaints with our hospital experience during Quinn's birth (see last post), we are really impressed by the easy access to all the post-natal care we need. For instance, I've had some trouble with breastfeeding. Our midwife continued to visit us at home after Quinn's birth and helped with the breastfeeding by watching and giving tips. When things were still not going great, she referred us to a community lactation consultant, who came to the house to help us with our technique. Both the midwife and the lactation consultant followed up with phone calls. All this was free. I am so grateful for all this support - I never had to struggle alone.

The breastfeeding problems led to problems with Quinn gaining weight so we were referred to a paediatrician. We had an appointment just a couple days after the midwife made the referral, and we saw him for free. We love free stuff. (ok, it's not free; our taxes pay for it. But we're not paying any more in taxes than we did in the States, so it seems free...)

Now that Quinn is 6 weeks old, the midwife care is over, but we'll continue to have visits from a Plunket nurse. She will come to the house to check on us every few months or more often as needed. Healthcare workers coming to us: brilliant.

So anyway, the point is that we're happy with the healthcare system. Hooray for national health care!

We have met some great people who we now call friends. Some are kiwis, some are fellow immigrants. Strangely, we seem to know more people after a year in Christchurch than we knew after 6 years in Phoenix. Maybe because we arrived in town knowing no one we've made more of an effort to make friends than we ever did in Phoenix.

We said this at 6 months and say it again: our work-life balance is way better here. This is still true. And Gareth will be a stay-at-home dad soon. So you could say his life is about to be all work, but the good kind. :-)

One thing we really do not miss from America is the political divide between the Red Staters and Blue Staters. It's crazy to think back now at how things were over there - and still are as far as we know. I'm a little too sleep deprived at the moment to adequately explain why this is a big deal. All I can say is that life is better when politics don't rile people up so much. As time goes on, we're reading news from America less and less. For one, it's just too depressing (the BP oil spill? Don't get us started.) But also, we just don't care anymore. It's so far away. If anything important happens over there, they'll report on it here. And they'll report on it without any left or right bias.

In short, our thoughts one year in: we're staying.

Birth story

2010-06-19T20:49:00.006+12:00

My due date came and went on 18th May. We waited.

On Wednesday the 26th, my midwife Sheena “swept” my membranes to try and get labour started. She did that again on Thursday.

On Thursday night I woke up at 12:30 with a contraction. And another one 10 minutes later. And another one 10 minutes after that. They say try to go back to sleep if labour starts at night, but who can sleep at a time like this? The boy is coming!

The timing was good, we thought – he was going to arrive on Friday the 28th. This happens to be the 1 year anniversary of our arrival in New Zealand. Perfect.

Contractions continued through the night. I managed to sleep for 5 or 6 minutes between each contraction. But at about 9 am, they suddenly stopped. We were gutted. Sheena said this was normal and not to fret, but we had waited so long already! She advised walking – the very last thing I felt like doing. But needs must. So we went to the mall on Friday afternoon and did a few laps, me waddling along, Gareth asking every few minutes if I was feeling anything.

We’d been told that labour often happens at night when women feel safer, and sure enough, this was the case for us. Almost as soon as the sun went down on Friday, my contractions started up again. We were back in business.

I don’t remember a lot of Friday night. I remember Gareth made pizza, because we took a photo of it.

Contractions were painful but manageable. We were just so excited that he was on his way. I really can’t remember if I slept at all on Friday night. I remember rolling off the bed and having contractions on the floor next to the bed, and then climbing back in, and repeating this process over and over again for several hours.

It became useless trying to sleep so we got up real early on Saturday morning/Friday night.
Gareth busied himself getting things ready – he hauled supplies out of the garage and turned our living room into a first class birthing suite. Birthing pool, tarps, blankets, hot water urns set up on a camping table. We were so ready.

I got into the pool really early Saturday morning. It felt fantastic! But it also made the contractions slow down. Out of the pool.

Later Saturday morning, I discovered that whenever I used the toilet, I’d have a contraction. But sitting on the toilet is no way to labour comfortably! We moved blankets into the bathroom and started a new routine – sit on toilet until contraction starts, fall onto knees on floor to get through it, get back on toilet. Not glamorous, but it got things going again. It got us closer to meeting the boy.

Contractions were getting closer together and more regular. And more painful. We called Sheena to let her know that I was having at least 3 contractions in each 10 minute period. She offered to come over, but we told her we were doing alright still and would call her later.

I got back into the pool about 2pm Saturday. The water didn’t make the contractions any less painful, but it did help me relax in between. That part – the in-between-contractions part – was really nice. The contraction part was less nice.

About 3pm we called Sheena to request her presence and she and Kate (support midwife) came over about 4pm. Sheena did an internal exam to see how I was getting on – I was 5 or 6 cm dilated.

The next 6 to 8 hours are kind of a blur. Contractions were coming faster and often came two at a time. I remember hot towels on my back. Water in the pool getting murky. Out of the pool. Shivering on the floor. Warm and dry again. Hot water bottle on my back. Horrible pain. Darkness. Grogginess. Gareth, Sheena, and Kate watching me quietly.

Every half hour, Sheena or Kate would check the baby’s heart rate, sometimes in between contractions, sometimes during. Baby was doing fine.

Around 7pm Sheena said the baby had moved into a position that was not optimal. She told me to lie in bed on my side, leaning forward a bit to encourage him back into a better position. Staying in this position during contractions was damn near impossible. My morale was crumbling quickly at this point. I did some crying and moaning. It was just getting too hard. I was getting tired.

I carried on. We had a new routine now – contraction starts, fall to knees in front of exercise ball, Gareth applies heat and pressure to back, grip pillows on top of ball until pain subsides, climb into chair to recover, repeat. We did this over and over and over. I think I passed out in between some of the contractions. I remember that any noise or light was incredibly irritating. I needed quiet and darkness.

At about 11pm Sheena said it seemed I was in ‘transition’ (nearly fully dilated) based on the strength and frequency of my contractions. She said I’d probably feel an urge to push any time now. She asked if I’d like her to do an exam to check this out. I said no, I’ll wait for the urge to push.

Another hour went by. No urge to push.

Another hour went by. No urge to push.

At 1am, Sheena said she’d like to check me. It was bad news – I was only 7 cm dilated. I was absolutely crushed. From this point, contractions became completely unbearable. Pain leading to a baby was one thing, but pain that was not producing results was another entirely. I could not cope with this unproductive pain. I remember wailing on the floor during the next contraction. It was just too much now.

Sheena explained the baby had moved into a bad position again – his head was not making even contact with my cervix. She said it might be time to go to hospital.

This was the hardest part. We needed to make a decision, but I was in no shape to be making decisions. Should I carry on toward our goal of a home birth, or should I give up and go to the hospital? I was leaning toward hospital and the sweet allure of pain-relieving drugs, but could not know if this decision was based simply on the pain and exhaustion or if it really was a good decision. I started to dream of an epidural. Gareth said it was up to me.

We decided to go to the hospital. Gareth quickly packed a bag, we packed us into the car, and we were off. We got to Christchurch Women’s at 2am.

Here begins a whole different birth experience. No more dark, peaceful living room. Suddenly I was in a sterile hospital room. Bright lights. Hospital gown. IV drip in my left hand, blood pressure cuff on my right arm. Fetal heart rate monitor and contraction monitor strapped to my belly. A catheter up my urethra. Machines clicking and blinking all around. Lots of people.

Dr Dan came in to administer the epidural. Dr Dan had 3 days of stubble on his face and a funky coloured hair cover that said, “I’m a professional but I like to have fun too.” I wasn’t sure I trusted him. Dr Dan casually explained how he was going to poke a hole in my back and make my legs numb. I was scared shitless. I got into position and he gave me the most important instruction: “If you start to have a contraction, say ‘I AM HAVING A CONTRACTION.’ When you are done having a contraction, say ‘I AM DONE HAVING A CONTRACTION.’” Easy enough. I was shivering with fear but managed to hold still while Dr Dan put a hole in my back.

The epidural took effect pretty quickly. Oh my god, the relief. The sweet relief.

It’s amazing to me now that what I was doing at home, and what I was doing in hospital, are both called “labour”. They are nowhere near the same thing and should possibly be given different names. A few hours earlier, I had been actively giving birth (or working toward it). Now, I was passively waiting for the baby to be delivered. They said I was having contractions, but I felt nothing. It was like I wasn’t even participating in the birth of my child anymore.

For the next few hours I met a lot of people. Katherine the midwife was the only one who stayed in the room the whole time. Others came, assessed me, left again.

At one point, 10 people rushed into the room at one time. All of them were touching me and talking in concerned tones. I had no idea what was happening. Dr Chris, the obstetrician, said he needed to put an electronic heart rate monitor into the baby’s head. I said no. I did not want this. Dr Chris gave me a look, like, “good god, woman, let me do my job!” Everyone else looked at me like I was crazy. What was going on? I looked over to Gareth who nodded ‘yes’, we needed to do this. I didn’t understand why, but said fine. Do it. Put a hole in my baby’s head if you must. Bloody doctors.

It wasn’t until later that I learned what had happened. Apparently, my blood pressure dropped suddenly and the baby’s heart rate dropped dangerously low. They pumped a bag of saline into me but the heart rate monitor strapped to my belly was not giving them a consistent reading. They needed a better read. Gareth saw it all happening but I somehow had no idea.

Once the electronic monitor was attached to the baby’s head, his heart rate was broadcast into the room, like in surround sound. Da-dunk, da-dunk, da-dunk. We all listened. It came back to normal. All was fine. Everyone left again.

Katherine the midwife explained that they had been giving me syntocinon (called pitocin in the States) to get my contractions going. She said it was very normal for contractions to stop when the woman has an epidural. She had been slowly increasing the dosage, and it seemed maybe the baby did not like the higher dosage and the harsh contractions it caused. When they stopped the drip, his heart rate had returned to normal. Dr Chris came back to check and said to go ahead and slowly start increasing the “synto” again.

A couple hours later the baby’s heart rate dropped again. Ten people rushed into the room again. I was told that I was being taken in for an emergency c-section. Dr Dan came back and put stronger drugs in my back. A nurse took Gareth out and returned a couple minutes later with him in scrubs. There was some discussion about stopping the synto. They were about to wheel me out. Suddenly, the baby’s heart rate started climbing back up. Everyone stopped, listened, waited. We were ok.

This was just getting insane. Gareth and I were not going to be able to sustain this kind of birthing for much longer.

It was around 8:30am when Dr Chris did an internal exam and reported the bad news – I hadn’t dilated any further. Things were not going all that well, really. Dr Chris told me his shift was over now, and introduced me to Dr Jana and her team. Dr Jana explained what had become obvious - things were not looking so great for us. Even if the baby could withstand more synto, and even if I dilated more, I might not be able to push him out. I should maybe have a c-section, she said.

Gareth and I discussed this and immediately agreed – YES. Get The Baby Out. NOW.

Things happened pretty fast from here on out. Dr Jana gave me consent forms to sign and I was wheeled away for surgery. It would seem that the operating theatre at Christchurch Women’s doubles as a meat freezer. It was ridiculously cold in there. I was shivering a lot. I was moved to a table where bright lights shined down on my belly. I was splayed out like on a cross – my arms straight out from my sides with needles and a blood pressure cuff. Dr Daniel – the day shift anaesthetist – introduced himself and explained the serious pain-blocking drugs he’d be injecting. Someone turned on the radio and asked if there was any station in particular we’d like to listen to (are you kidding me?) A young woman introduced herself as a student doctor and asked if I minded if she assisted with the surgery. Whatever, I thought. What's one more stranger in the room? All that mattered now was that we were going to meet our baby soon. Finally.

Dr Daniel and Gareth discussed the A-Team movie coming out soon while Dr Jana prepared to cut into me. It was all pretty surreal. I felt the pressure of the knife cutting across my belly, and someone moving their hands around my insides. Dr Daniel said it would feel like someone was “rummaging in a handbag” and that was pretty spot on.

It only took a couple minutes. Then, at 10:04 a.m., we heard his first cry. Quinn Diego was finally here.

He's here!

2010-06-02T18:44:00.002+12:00

As you can see, he's thrilled to be here.

We're so in love, our hearts have exploded.

Normal programming will resume when mummy has sufficiently recovered.

An open letter to the boy

2010-05-25T16:30:00.001+12:00

Dear baby boy,

It's time for you to come out now. Really. We mean it. There is so much for you to see out here. You think my uterus is great, and no doubt, it's sublime, but we think you'll find the outside even better. Out here we've got sheep and trees and rugby and ice cream. You haven't got any of that in there. OK, you have ice cream. But it tastes way better before it's filtered through that placenta. Trust us on this one.

Here's the thing: we moved to New Zealand so that we could do more hiking and camping and running on trails. We picked the south island because there is so much untouched wilderness to explore down here. But just as we were settling into our new jobs, finding our stride, WHAMMO! We were knocked on our butts with news you were on your way. Don't get us wrong, we were absolutely thrilled with the news! We had been hoping for you to come for almost 3 years. That was a really long time to wait. So it was great news, the best news we could have ever had. But waiting for you to get here has kind of delayed the exploration of our new home.

Which is fine, of course! The mountains aren't going anywhere. And now when we go see them, it will be even better because we can show them to you too. We really can't wait. Which brings us back to our first point: you really need to come out of there.

Other people are waiting to meet you too, people in America and the UK and here in New Zealand. You've got grandparents and aunts and uncles and cousins. They've already given you heaps of gifts - you won't believe how many things you have already! Our friends B & K got you an awesome Kathmandu backpack so daddy can carry you on his back while we go hiking - we can't wait to try it out! And your grandma made you a beautiful quilt that we think you'll really like. (Please try not to pee on it.) We painted your room a nice green color, and put a tree on the wall. We hope you like green.

You're coming into a rather international family, which we think will be really cool for you. You'll be able to get passports from the UK and the US and New Zealand, just like Jason Bourne! Your friends will be super jealous. Not only will you be able to travel all over the place, when you grow up you can live and work in America, Europe, NZ, or Australia too. Not many people have those kind of options. You'll be very lucky. We hope you'll like to travel and see new things.

But maybe you'll decide that you just want to stay in Christchurch, and we're cool with that too. We'll be glad to have you nearby.

Of course, all that is a long way off. For now, you really just need to focus on one very short journey. We've got everything ready for you when you reach the other side: clothes, nappies, a place to sleep, your very own seat in the car. It's all ready and waiting for you. So as soon as you possibly can, please, please make your move. Send the hormones or punch through the sac or do whatever it is you need to do to get on your way.

So to sum up: you've been in there for 41 weeks. It's time to come out. You'll be glad you did.

We can't wait to meet you.

love,
mummy and daddy

p.s. please be gentle on your way out.

Autumn in the park

2010-05-22T13:19:00.005+12:00

Still waiting for the boy's arrival... 4 days overdue now.

Went for a walk (er, waddle) in the park to pass the time this morning.

He's still not here.

A diner experience

2010-05-17T12:19:00.003+12:00

We used to be big fans of going out to breakfast on weekends. We'd wake up, put a hat on over the greasy hair, and roll down to the Good Egg for an Old Pueblo Skillet or Breakfast Quesadilla. mmm droolllll. The food was good, the service was efficient, the coffee cup never empty, and the bill? $20 plus tip. Awesome.

We've tried to find a similar experience here in Christchurch. This led us to Drexels, an "American style" breakfast diner. We've gone twice now, once to the Riccarton location and once to the downtown location.

The first thing you notice about this diner is that it's way too nice to be a diner.

It's all modern and beautiful. Diners should be old and worn and a bit greasy. This place looks real nice and sleek.

The other thing about diners is that you should never have to plan to go there. When we showed up at the downtown Drexels this weekend, the hostess asked if we had a booking. A booking! Seriously, I almost guffawed. I thought, who would make a reservation to roll out of bed and come to breakfast? It wasn't Mothers Day or any other breakfast-heavy holiday. It was an ordinary Sunday morning in a diner. I would have felt really silly calling to make a reservation. Who would do that?? As it turns out, everyone in Christchurch would do that, and had done it. Everyone but us. They were booked solid for the next hour, she said. We sat to wait for a table to become available while family after family came in and told the hostess about their bookings. Unbelievable.

In the end, we only waited about 15 minutes before being shown to our very nice booth. A minute later, our waitress came and introduced herself. We got the impression she had been shown instructional videos on how to wait tables at an American diner, complete with an introduction ("Hi, I'm Susie and I'll be your waitress") and a quick rundown of the specials. But while she had been shown how to do it, she was clearly not very comfortable with it. We couldn't blame her. She knew, and we knew, there would be no tip in it for her. Tipping just isn't really done here.

We ordered coffee. ("Filter coffee or espresso?") This place offers a "bottomless cup" of filter coffee - standard in America, pretty much unheard of here. We were sorely disappointed after our first trip to Drexels, as our waitress simply refused to refill our coffee cups. We waited AGES. We made eye contact and pointedly slid the empty cups to the edge of the table. Still we waited. Thankfully, this second trip was much better. Several waitresses came by and filled our coffee cups. We were very glad for it.

It's the small things you miss, you know?

The thing about eating out here is that the menu prices are a bit of a shock at first. I ordered pancakes ($15) and Gareth ordered an omelet ($16.50). That seems a bit crazy expensive for eggs and buttermilk, but you have to remember that the prices include tax and you don't have to add on a tip. What you see on the menu is all you pay, nothing more. The bill is still more than it would be at an ordinary diner, but not quite as much more as it initially seems. You would think people go out to eat less because it's expensive, but apparently not. Apparently, so many people are going out to eat that you have to make a booking.

Our food was delicious. Absolutely delicious. We don't know what it is about food in New Zealand, but we have almost never had a bad meal here. (I would even include that pseudo-Mexican food we tried last year in this statement, as it was really good food, just not Mexican food.) There seems to be no bad food here. Maybe it's the fresh, whole ingredients, maybe it's chef know-how, maybe it's a combination of both. We don't know. We just know it tastes real good. My pancakes were thick and fluffy and perfect. Gareth's omelet came with incredibly good guacamole. We rolled out stuffed and happy.

Little things

2010-05-13T10:07:00.004+12:00

Who'd have thought the sight of little tiny clothes would make me so giddy??

I kind of hope the neighbours didn't see me outside photographing our washing line...

And look at this:

It's the Baby Yoda sweater I've been knitting, nearly done now. So tiny. So cute. Tee hee!