Snowy Sunday run in the Port Hills

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

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

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

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

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

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

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!