Last night in Auckland

Tomorrow I fly out to the islands. Woe is me.

I called Fiji today to make a reservation at a hostel there. The lady on the phone said, "There'll be someone waiting for you at arrivals with our name on the sign, but before you come through, could you pick something up for us?"

Huh? I thought. "Uhh, okay?" What is this all about?

"Could you pick up a bottle of Fiji Bounty Rum? It should be about $19 a bottle. Just bringit to the front desk when you check in and we'll reimburse you for it."

"Okay, sure." I guess if this is a joke, then I'll just have to drink the rum myself. I'm sure I could handle it.

This is the first time I'll be bringing rum to my hotel. I wonder if they'll sell it back to me at a higher price?

In other news, I completed my New Zealand Taxes today. It took about five minutes, in comparison to the two days that the US taxes take. I did, however, have to call the IRD three different times to get it done. But here you can actually talk to a real person after only about 2-5 minutes on the phone. It's quite amazing.

The rest of the day was spent wandering, visiting my favorite cafe, walking along ponsonby road and chatting with travelers in the hostel.

Tomorrow I fly out at 1:00PM. I'll be sad to leave Verandahs Hostel. It's one of the best in New Zealand. I think if I'd have discovered it sooner, I might have tried to be a longer term resident here. It's quite the place.

Au Revoir, Kiwiland! I'll see you in my dreams.

U-turn!

[Enroute to Auckland after a quick turn-around in the bay of islands.]

It was just too crummy of weather for rest and relaxation. Besides that, I know that I'll be an Auntie for the first time in not too many days. The time is right to go home. Thank goodness that Air Pacific lets you book flights at the last minute for cheap.

We’re pulling back into Auckland… probably the last time I will see the skyline from this side of town. Soon we’ll be crossing over the harbour bridge. It’s a beautiful city. The things I’ve learned this year! If I had to make a list it could stretch forever.

Mostly I’ve learned to be more open-minded, more patient, more trusting. People everywhere have surprised me with their kindness and love. I’ve done things I wouldn’t have thought I'd do. I’ve realized how useless passing judgment on others is. (Not that it’s easy to understand other people all the time, but at least give them the benefit of the doubt. )

Boats in the harbour. The sky tower popping up behind them. Fluffy clouds with a deep purple base. Sky the color of my bedroom in Portland. Ships and more ships. I’ve never seen so many in my life. We’re sailing into town on the Intercity bus- something that’s marked my days and travels in NZ. I still love the peace and the whirr of the bus shifting gears, humming along. Passengers shuffle belongings but it’s still serene in here. And as I stare out the window, it’s the closest thing to church and meditation as I'll get here in Auckland.

Two more days and I will fly off, forever perhaps, or not. Life doesn’t tell you the story line ahead of time. You just have to follow it as it goes along and see where you end up.

Urban New Zealand dreaming

My dream sky tower- in aqua blue! Taken from the window of a friend's flat. Ok it's fuzzy, we'll call it "artistic." Who wouldn't like that outside? If you're gonna be in the city, may as well have the cityscape.

My dream car- an old orange mini cooper! On the streets of Auckland... I had a hankering for those new ones when they first came out, but nothing beats the original.

Just threw this one in there to see if you were paying attention. No this is not "urban." Rather, it was taken on the drive down to Wellington.

Here is where I record my dreams and other observations... I didn't open it too far, don't want you all to know what I really think. If you can finagle your way into my place and make off with a a few journals, I guarantee you will think I'm insane, but I think you'll laugh a little at least.

My dream day, sitting with a super-strong coffee watching the randoms pass by. Here's Fidel's Cafe in Wellington. It's where a lot of people wear glasses. Very good indications for the health of the optometry profession in Wellington.

In post script--- if you feel like continuing the dialogue...

Today, I met up with three of my former students who are all working in Wellington. I stopped in on two of them at their places of employment and met another for dinner. The thrill of seeing them "all grown up" and looking so professional will bring a smile to my face for a long time. I'm still blown away by them- they will hold a special place in my heart forever. No, I am not crying. Or ridiculously sentimental. Just real.

I also spent a good chunk of time languishing in the sunshine listening to a knit-hatted Welly street musician strum his acoustic guitar and cover all sorts of songs with his ear-cuddling voice.

All-in-all, a most interesting day.

Contrary to popular fear, I have not been swept away in the Tasman

I've been fuffing about for the last five days, reconnecting with friends and the city of Auckland. It's been a joyous homecoming overall. I reclaimed my three bags from storage and started sorting through the junk that I'd deemed necessary to keep. It seemed so excessive after my tiny pack for four months in Asia, but I have embraced the lifestyle of clothing choices again and even got myself a new pair of pants to add to my pack. I've decided that I don't have to look like a dirty backpacker for this leg of the journey. Rather, I think I'll go for the alternative fashionista. I may even haul along a hair-straightener. Watch out world.

Perfect day: March, 18, 2009

[Current status: Sitting in the park, drinking a NZ beer from the wineshop across the street. They were kind enough to give me a free magazine and open the bottle for me, so I could just walk 50 metres and plop myself down. I asked and they didn't think there were any public consumption laws. If you never hear from me again, assume we were wrong, and contact the American Embassy, please!]

5:something... woke up and had to go pee. Tried to recall what kind of toilet trip would it involve. Would it be to a manual flusher, did I have to walk a dirt path? Oh yeah, I'm in a REAL house with a REAL toilet. Inside. Pee? Yes. Then sleep.
7:15 [Light tapping on door.] Incorporates well into dream, until Wanda says, "It's 7:15." So I get up and get dressed in my one outfit and ride to work with Wanda. Once we get to school, she heads in and I'm off to mark things off my list.
(Now getting quite buzzed as I'm halfway through my beer.)
Morning hours:
Cancel "fully-refundable" plane ticket. And it truly was "fully-refundable!" Now I can squat in Kiwi-land as long as I like! (Heh.) No outward transport scheduled.
Drink "Long black" and read NZ Herald at former haunt, Kokako.
Pick up free sample at the Pandero Bakery.
Peruse second hand clothes on Parnell. Buy nothing. Plan to bring back own clothes for consignment.
Make appointment for haircut tomorrow with Japanese Stylist on Parnell.
Investigate international shipping options. Discover it's cheaper and faster from NZ than it was from Asia. List of banned items includes: acid (duh), bullion (huh?), indecent goods (those Kiwis, so proper!), and "signals, distress" (that's right, don't be mailing your distress abroad, keep it here where it's safe!)
Stop in and try on magenta mascara and glitter eyeshadow at the organic beauty shop. Wonder how they make "organic" glitter.
[Phone ribbits. Text message from old friend.]
Discover how to order "Horsey chair" by Tim Wigmore - the item that I'd decided about six months ago would be my souvenir from my life in NZ. (I was just walking by the store. This was NOT on the list.) It's actually called "Giddyup" chair. To see for yourself, click here.
Recharge Vodafone and add Txt2000 so I can resume my life as texter extraordinaire.
(Terribly buzzed now.)
Purchase wine for Wanda and impulsively beer for self.

Next: Hopefully do not pass out on the lawn. Now that could be embarrassing.

Back in New Zealand

I arrived and entered the country without incident, though the immigration lines were long and they appeared to be inquiring everyone. I watched as the girl in front of me had to prove "onward travel" and the adjacent woman was asked about work status. Everyone seemed to be taking forever. I geared up for the interrogation myself. I stepped to the line with my "fully refundable" plane ticket receipt in hand and copy of immunizations. I wondered if I should have printed out bank statements, just in case. I hadn't even checked on the entrance requirements that extensively.

I stepped to the counter and presented my passport. The customs guy said, "You're just visiting, right?" I said, "I worked here last year but just traveling and then I'm going to watch my students graduate in May." He started flipping through my passport. I said, "If you're looking for my old work visa, it's at the back." "No," he says, "I was just looking for an empty page." Within two minutes, I was through immigration with nary a question nor showing any proof of onward travel. That USA passport is so easy to travel on... Another blessing of birth.

The show playing is "Glorious Auckland" right now... meaning it's about 70 and sunny (no wind) with fluffy white clouds in the sky. Yesterday I took the airport bus to town and walked into the university where they all asked, "Are you coming back? You're coming back!" That was nice. I'm not coming back. But it does feel really nice here- I know why people are blown away by NZ now. It looks amazing. Green. Clean air. Amazing crystal aqua water surrounding the city. And it acutally seems quiet, peaceful and non-trafficy compared to Asia. Funny.

I'm staying with Wanda, my old co-worker optometrist in the most amazing bed with a down duvet. This morning, I rode to work with her and walked through the dewy green grass of the Domain Park to the library. Next, I plan to go to my little coffee shop Kokako. I have a fairly long list of things to tie up, but I'm happy to be working on that.

I know this sounds cheesy, but I feel so lucky to be living this life. I'm really happy.

T-3 days and counting

I'm in bed, emailing, etc. What a lame-o, no? Perhaps. But I woke up with a hacking cough now. The Gods are trying to drive me batty with this month-long cold (since before the marathon). I will just have to go and relax on the beach in Thailand and recuperate.

I did a load of business yesterday: updated my resume, repacked (sort of) two of my large-in-charge duffel bags, walked to the top of nearby volcano Mount Eden, laid on the trampoline with Grace, fended off scary hostel guy (one of those conspiracy theorist Americans from San Diego), took a shower (just threw that one in there to see if you were paying attention). Heh!

Crazy picture lady is at it again:
(I didn't notice the camera was set on "color accent." Normally the water is aqua blue... oops!)
Cows at the top of Mt Eden
Mt Eden volcano cone
Auckland from Mt Eden

Your high maintenence hosteler

I've just returned from a few days of camping up north of Auckland at the Kai Iwi Lakes. The weather was hit and miss, but overall decent (meaning I wasn't totally freezing my butt off). I did spend one day sleeping in the tent... the second day. I suppose the 3 week long sinus/chest cold along with staying up till the butt crack of dawn contributed to that somewhat. I think I might still need a parent to tell me when enough is enough. Or maybe a reverse alarm. When it goes off, I should run to bed. It was a good time anyway. Nice to hang out with students when they are no longer my students and some are now my colleagues! It's a good feeling.

This afternoon, I settled into my hostel in Auckland, just across from Mt Eden. Grace dropped me off. We got some strange looks as we hauled in my two large duffel bags, one large backpack and a few various small bags. It was befitting to my name, Sara (it means "princess" in Hebrew).

Tonight I met Ursula for coffee after having just lounged around the rest of the day. I'm just planning to lay in the grass and enjoy myself these last few days and get a few things sorted out for the Asia trip.

A week of entertainment

Monday:
*Drove to work after bus escapade of last week. This was the second time I drove in 6 months. The first was the day Molly and Josh arrived.
*Ate Mexican food for the first time in NZ. Brea, a Colorado girl who I met in a coffee shop, who was friends with Julie, a Canadian I met randomly, was turning 25 and made everyone enchiladas. Interestingly, Brea's dad and uncle graduated from BRHS in '65 and '67, where my mom graduated in '66. Very small world indeed.

Tuesday:
*Usually keen student (Alphy) shows up in my doorway at 12:15pm stating that she has a "problem." I get up to assist and discover that a chart has somehow gotten into the door frame. Inside the pocket door. I didn't fall down with laughter, but was close. At this juncture, the chart remains entombed in the door.

Wednesday:
*Decided to solo attend live music and poetry on Queen Street in Auckland where I'd taken Molly and Josh. Sat down. After a few songs, was poked in the back. I turned around to see Nadine, the poet mother of three who I'd met at the bookstore event with CK Stead months ago.

Thursday:
*Went to "Women in Science"event with Ursula (speaker: scientist Jilly Evans from San Diego) and discovered I've made ALL the mistakes she advised women not to make in their careers. Befriended the Dean of Science and discovered that other depts have morning and afternoon tea every day. Mild jealousy ensued.
*Attended premiere of Auckland film, "Apron Strings" with fellow tutors. Film introduction was 45 minutes, by various folks including the prime minister, Helen Clark. Following the screening, the entire cast bowed on stage.

Friday:
*That would be today. Going out dancing on K Rd. With Ursula. Goal is to return to my house by dawn! :) TGIF.

Cheers!

Saving time

Last night after work, I decided I'd save some time getting home by paying $4.80 and taking the public bus, which would drop me off just a few blocks from my house, rather than taking the free staff shuttle to the Auckland city campus and then walking thirty minutes home from there.

One of my students pointed out the bus stop earlier, so I booked it over there after work and patiently waited with Mr. D.H. Lawrence. The patience wore out sometime after 45 minutes.

Finally the 655 bus pulled up, though it was hard to tell if it really was the 655- all the lights were wacked up on the front. I got on and asked the driver, "Does this go to Parnell?"

"No." He says.

"But I've been waiting for an hour and 20 minutes!" Desperation was setting in. Am I ever going to get home? I'd already be home if I had taken the staff shuttle but now I've missed the last one. Regrets, regrets. Not helping.

He's pulled out a small laminated white paper and donned glasses. "Yeah, I do go to Parnell!"

Oh God. Isn't their job to know their route? This does not inspire confidence.

He offers, "I was late because I got out of school late." Or something.

I soften. Maybe he's trying to further himself. That's nice.

The bus moves forward. Very slowly. I wonder if he always drives this slow. Maybe that's why the bus is so late.

We appear to be pulling into a driveway. Is this a home stop?

No, a u-turn.

Ok, we're backtracking. This is a first. A lost, late busdriver doing u-turns.

Moving again, through the residential areas. I'm the only rider. Perhaps this is a special route.

I don't see any bus stops on the side of the road.

Seem to be sitting a long time at this stop sign.

Driver mumbles something with, "Lost" in it. White laminated sheet is out again. (It's not really a map, just a diagram/schematic thing.)

I don't want to know!

I start to text people, in case I never turn up again after this time-saving bus ride.

Finally out of residential! Hope returns. I may get home just yet.

Only two hours later, I get off at my stop.

Gotta love Auckland public transport...

Auckland Writers and Readers Week

Today was sunny and 70ish in Auckland.  I should have popped out out of bed like a jack-in-the box, but I was sluggish and slumpy instead.  It was at least 9:48AM when I got up off the couch. Yes, the couch.  I've been sleeping on the couch for a week now.  It's harder than my twin trundle bed, which is on wheels and a mere 12 inches off the floor. 

After my last visitors left, my back persuaded me to move to higher ground.  It's also easier to get up in the morning.  I'm much closer to standing.

Anyway, today I had plans to attend a few free lectures at the Auckland Writer's conference. The first one started at 11:3oAM. I was expecting it to be story hour, like we used to have at the library when I was a kid in Alexandria.  My mom would take Carrie and me quite regularly and we would sit on the floor and enter our dream world.  Later, after we'd moved to North Dakota, I had two teachers who understood the power of reading to your class, Mr. Wetzel in 5th grade and Mr. Bjornson in 6th grade.

So I got to the first session and closed my eyes as the four different authors read from their novels.  It was not quite the same as when I was a kid.  (I think perhaps the stories were simpler then.)  But it was still enchanting.  I'm thinking that we should have adult story hour.  I think when I start my cafe/community center, I will have an adult story hour.  Who said we have to give it up when we hit the double digits?  

The highlight of the readings was Mr. Duncan Sarkies, a contributor to "The Flight of the Conchords" and recent author of "Two Little Boys."  The audience was nearly falling out of their chairs with laughter.  

After a 30 minute intermission, in which time I wandered to the book table, filled out a survey, and picked up some Auckland city maps for Molly and Josh's impending visit, I returned to my seat in the Limelight room.  A man in head-to-toe black including a suit jacket sat next to me. He was carrying a medium-sized moleskin journal and black permanent pen, which he used to make flourishes and notes as the lecture moved along.  The writing was so filled with flair that I couldn't sneak read it from my close distance.  He looked like an art critic, but was wearing a sponsor tag. 

Oh, back to the lecture.  (I may have been more interested in my neighbor.)  The lecturer, Dr. Charles Pigden, was a very hyperopic (literally and figuratively) philosophy professor from Otago University in the south island, speaking on the history of philosophy in New Zealand. 

He started out by repeatedly saying how NZ was superior to all other countries, except perhaps Finland, when it came to philosophy. (This county is fantastic at flagrant self-promotion.) He then went on to cover the history and specificially deride one of the early philosophy professors, William Anderson, at the University of Auckland.  After a long and loud lecture, he asked for questions.  A middle-aged woman stood up. She wore a worn camel leather coat, black pin-striped pants, and straight blondish grey hair, about shoulder length. 

"I am the granddaughter of William Anderson."

Mr. Philosophy professor's ego visibly deflated and he looked annoyed as she went on to explain her grandfather's philosophy on philosophy and education...  

That was the highlight of the lecture. 

And the lesson is...  this is a small country, be careful what you say!  Oh and and don't forget about "Adult Story Hour", coming to a cafe near you! (When I return to the states one day.)

Two angels arrived yesterday at dawn

Yesterday, I had my first official visitors from Portland, Oregon arrive- Shanta and Brian.

They were treated to challenging weather, but were troopers as we walked through the streets of Auckland in more than a mist of rain, which never let up the ENTIRE day.

Our morning started out with a walk to my coffee shop then through the Domain park. They got to experience my commute to and from work. We wandered through K' Road, which is the part of Auckland where I love to hang out. It's full of hippies, tattoo parlors, second hand stores, vegan/organic cafes, prostitution shops, coffee, ethnic food... etc. I go there to feel at home. Or to feel like Portland. (They agreed.)

We followed the city park to downtown, in search of the art gallery. Being chilled to the bone, we stopped for hot wonton soup and a sandwich in the gallery cafe, all shared three ways before wandering through the art. The display theme was something about nature, but one room was filled with pictures of dead whales. :( Is that art? We couldn't look at it.

Though we're all hard-core Oregonians, we opted to ride the bus home. On the way back, we stopped in St. Stephen's Cathedral. Brian was a little uncertain whether he wanted to go into a church, but the architecture, stained glasses and Shanta's guided tour won him over. The little ladies were quite concerned that we were freezing to death. (We were.)

Once home, I broke down and asked my landlords for a space heater (remember, no central heating or insulation in NZ), which worked thankfully - though we were a little overzealous in the controls and ended up so hot that we contemplated opening a window.

After a stop at the grocery store, Shanta and I went to Evensong at the cathedral, which I thought was just choral singing, but it actually turned out to be an evening prayer service. (Oh well.) Brian stayed home and monitored the heater.

Later in the minikitchen, I whipped up a spinach salad and toast with feta and mushrooms for the three of us, which we washed down with wine. Those two kept offering to help, but I barely fit in my kitchen myself... let alone two of us! Or three! I could just see the headlines, "Three Americans found wedged in Auckland loft."

Shanta and Brian managed to stay up til 8:00PM before they crashed (Brian first, even with about 5 cups of coffee yesterday). We had our slumber party in my little space.

This morning we walked for coffee again before they headed off to pick up the campervan and loop the north island. Can't wait to hear back on their adventures!

So wonderful to have my good friends here... little angels from home they are!

We don't have many billboards in Auckland, but the ones we have surely grab your attention!

Occasionally I think maybe the paper is a waste of time, but this is why I can't stop reading the New Zealand Herald- articles like this in the editorial page.

Billboards on tapu topic accused of showing cultural insensitivity

Photo / Paul Estcourt

Back up to the Cooks; meet Ken & Lorraine!

Rarotonga hike photos courtesy of Ken and Lorraine. I didn't haul my camera on that hike- no room after I got my snorkeling gear in my backpack!

I had the honor of their company this weekend in Auckland. They christened my futon/couch for you all who are on your way. It was like a three day slumber party, as we stayed up talking late into the night in the studio apartment. I played tour guide, which was totally fun. Beware, psycho tour guide Sara is alive and thriving! I also bought their car off them as they flew out to Western Australia this morning, before heading off to Africa. I'm now the proud owner of a 1994 red Mazda station wagon. Pictures of my new baby to follow.

The Needle- our destination on the cross the island trek

Ken and Lorraine (Irish). We were all staying in the Rarotonga Backpackers.
Look down and you'll see what I meant by, "Steps made of tree roots provided by the forest."
A little tired at the top

Heading down again


Afterward, Lorraine napping on the beach in her new pants. Ken's shoe, a little worse for the wear. It was the only hike he didn't wear hiking shoes. Maybe that's what jinxed us! :)

It's a small world (be careful what you blog!)

Last night, after work I walked to Mt. Eden (a tree-lined suburb named after one of those many volcanic hills surrounding Auckland) to the Time Out Bookstore for an evening with C.K. (Karl) Stead (a NZ author who I've previously mentioned- see posting March 4) and Elizabeth Caffin, the ex-director of Auckland University Press. They were there to discuss his newest book, “Book Self; The Reader as Writer and the Writer as Critic.”

With a few minutes to spare, I arrived at the bookstore. Time Out is unassuming, neat inside and fantastic for browsing. It’s quite tiny and cosy with about one of each title in stock, laid out in a logical fashion, which suits my mathematical and orderly (aka OCD) mind.

I wasn’t sure where the reading was to be held, but I saw a woman disappear in the corner of the room, so I followed. After ascending a creaky, wooden staircase with a metal pipe railing, I emerged into what felt like someone's living room. The brick-walled room was lined with paintings, maroon leather smoking couches, and a few modern, black, wood-slatted benches. Complimentary drinks, fresh fruit and veggies were served up by three of the bookstore staff. I felt like I'd been dropped into an alternate universe.

The space quickly became full, with about 20-25 people (occupancy was limited). I felt lucky to be among the few.

I was chatting with a woman, Nadine, a dark-haired, petite mother of three originally from South Africa who’s been recently working on her poetry, when Karl Stead and Elizabeth Caffin arrived and mingled among the attendees. The format was a conversation between the two of them. Topics ranged from religion to travel, leftists to music, confidence to caning.

Following the stimulating conversation and questions, I decided I’d like to have a book signed after all. I’d been wavering about it because it seemed like a groupie sort of thing to do. I mentioned it to Nadine and she said, “I’d like one too.”

After a second glass of wine, we headed up front to have our books signed. “You go first,” she said, making room for me for me to pass by.

I walked up and blabbed to Karl in my usual way, joking, “I’ll take your book back to America when I go- and you’re right, your stuff doesn’t get over there as well.” I was talking Saraspeak, which is a little on the fast side, trying to get everything out in ten seconds flat. I mentioned that I’d picked up his book of poems in the Parnell library and told a few people how much I’d enjoyed them and then went to his lecture at the University.

His looked up at me quizzically.“Which book was it that you read?”
I said, “The Red Tram.”
Then from him, “Did you write a blog about it?”
“Yes.”
“I read it. Someone saw it and forwarded it to me. Thank you.”

I don’t remember what else was said after that. I was so shocked that he’d read my blog! I couldn’t believe it. What a strange world.

Following the thrill of the book signing, we went downstairs to pay for our new reads and I asked for directions to Stokes Street, where I’d planned to pick up the bus home. At first, no one knew where the street was. Finally a grey haired woman came along and said she was going that way and would walk with me. At that time, Nadine said to the woman, “It’s okay, she’s actually riding home with me.” We walked to the car and drove away.

My inaugural meeting of APC

What's APC, you ask? It's Auckland Photography Club, founded in 1883.

I decided since I was doing new things, may as well continue on the path. And if I am going on the path, I may as well try a new way. So I left my house and walked down the hill (instead of up, as I have always gone) and discovered that at the end of the block, there is ocean. I knew it was there, just didn't know it was that close. I meandered along the walking path, stopping a 60ish NZ couple to get directions. They were very kind and helpful and I was soon on my way through a cricket game and up a large hill whereby I arrived at my meeting about an hour early.

You who know me, know that I am NOT early. Especially not an hour. So I walked along and went up Mt Hobson (one of Auckland's volcanoes) and enjoyed some lovely city views.

I finally arrived at my meeting fifteen minutes early, which is acceptable to me. There were folks milling around and I chatted with several people. I was feeling a little nervous, but I kept talking anyway. One girl was new from Scotland. Others had been coming for years. In the end, there were about 40-50 people, with skill levels noted as: novice, advanced, and salon.

We all settled into a room and submitted our photos digitally or in print for a New Zealand professional photographer to evaluate, critisize and grade. I brought four picturess. It was really fun to hear what he had to say and see everyone else's pics. (I got highly commended on all four, which is pretty good; honors would be better.)

The assignment for the night was AV presentation. (I didn't know about it since I was new.) Eleven of the club members submitted presentations with music and their photos. It was just amazing to see what everyone created.

At the end of the night, one of the ladies, Sue, declared that they would take me home, knowing that I had walked and it was quite dark out. She also said I was on the way and they would give me a ride anytime I came if I still didn't have a car. So lovely. Sigh.

It was a fantastic experience. We meet every two weeks. Ya.

Auckland views

This morning I stumbled into the coffee shop, fighting off a stuffy head bug that’s going around and picked up Metro Magazine, Auckland’s monthly magazine, which includes happenings about town and news. One look at the cover headline, “Those dumb cycle lanes,” and my eyes popped opened even though I hadn't sipped my long black yet. Was it a spoof to get me to read the article?

I scanned the table of contents and found “The cycleways that ate Auckland,” written by Jan Corbett, Metro’s Associate Editor. Citing almost all negative bicycling stereotypes, she spent four large pages hell-bent against bikes while bemoaning the status of cars on roads in Auckland.

Some quotes from the article I found interesting:

• “Isn’t cycling just a trendy pursuit among a small group of middle-class men and women who want to own the road in their own particular way?” (Actually in many parts of the world, people use a bicycle when they cannot afford a car.)

• “Why does a whole lane of traffic have to slow town for one fitness-obsessed rider in terrible pants with a geeky helmet and scant regard for the road rules?” (The helmet is for safety and I guess the car could just “tap” the biker and that would probably speed them up or knock them off at least.)

• “’Cycling is for everyone’ Really? The aged? The disabled? Toddlers? Parents transporting 2.5 children? Tradespeople?” (Yep, it’s for all those people, Jan. I’ve seen them all on bikes.)

• One of the elected city reps, Wayne Mapp was quoted as saying, “There’s been too much focus paid to cyclists’ needs and not enough to motorists’ needs.”

All I could think after reading the article was “Get your head out of your a**.” There’s almost no cycling lanes here compared to any other city I’ve been. The cars DO own the road here. The traffic is horrible. I see it every day. Why don’t people try alternate modes of transport? Like biking. Or walking. Or carpooling. Or public transport. Most of the cars have only one person in them on a mad dash to work, hopefully taking out at least one person on foot or bike so the next day they will have to slow down even less. It’s a CAR town.

I’ve been on my leg-powered wheels to work, school, errands and for pleasure since I was first introduced to the tricycle at age 2. Regular biking was part of my lifestyle in North Dakota, Minnesota, Wisconsin, Washington, Oregon and Pennsylvania. (Kentucky was a little sketchy for my tastes.)

I’ve carried 2 gallons of paint on my bike, my groceries, a food deyhydrator, and a birthday cake for my coworker (No, I did not have a special trailer.). I was not opposed to biking in a skirt or accidentally flashing folks. Am I an example of one of those fitness-obsessed persons who wants to own the road in my own particular way? I don’t think so. I think most cyclists are doing it for a multitude of reasons: the environment, their health, their pocketbook, NOT to hold up traffic or wear nasty spandex or piss off the drivers who think they OWN the road.

The second article of the day that cleared my head was an editorial in the New Zealand Herald (21 Feb 2008) by Garth George.

His line of thinking (also interspersed with discussion of abstinence, condom failure rates, etc):

Point 1: “98% of abortions in New Zealand were done on grounds of ‘preserving the mental health of the mother’ (Abortion Supervisory Committee of New Zealand).”

Point 2: “But a Canterbury University Study said nearly one half of women who had an abortion ‘had elevated rates of subsequent mental and health problems, including depression, anxiety, suicide and substance abuse.’”

Therefore: “How much longer are we to allow the Abortion Supervisory Committee to con us into believing that just on 99% of the women and girls given an induced abortion each year are in danger of going insane?”

I’m just dumbfounded. It’s upsetting to again read about how we should be abstaining from sex and using contraception and then there would not have to be abortions. This viewpoint was coming from an old white man with a scowl on his face, who certainly never made a bad judgment in his life. God knows he never needed an abortion.

FOR YOUR INFORMATION:
Current New Zealand law allows for abortions to be performed for the following reasons, providing the abortion is approved by two certifying consultants:
*to save the life of the woman
*to preserve the physical health of the woman
*to preserve the mental health of the woman
*foetal impairment
*in cases of incest
Other factors which may be considered, but are not in themselves grounds for abortion, are:
*cases of rape -- because rape is a term with unclear boundaries
*certain social factors (e.g., the girl's age in a teenage pregnancy)
Abortion is not allowed under any circumstances after 20 weeks of pregnancy except to save the mother's life.

Up-and-coming Auckland - this week's recap

On Tuesday evening, I went to the most fabulous production of "the Tempest" with six of my friends for only $15NZ. It was at this alternative theater type place on Cox's bay in town. At one end there was a small stage, at the other end, a balcony overlooking the bay. The "stage" for the play was actually the entire space. Audience members lined up along the sides of the rooms and at tables in the center of the room. The actors entered and exited through all the doors including the kitchen and the closets. During intermission, Ursula and I walked out on the balcony and the moon was shining down on the water like a spotlight even though it was only a sliver and the lights of the city across the bay seemed to be flickering- it was just magical. I woke up the next morning and felt like it was a dream.

Last night, I saw something equally amazing but totally different than the Shakespeare thing on Tuesday. It was called "Women and Honor: Notes on Lying"- about women, men, relationships, etc... abstract, alternative, simple, edgy. It was in a massive square room with high ceilings and about 120 chairs lined up around three sides. The production began with eerie music and a film projection of unclothed women in different poses onto a curtain with a female voiceover, then four actors/dancers appeared. There was one short monologue by the only male dancer describing one woman as you would describe a car, and a few voice overs, but otherwise just music and movement.

I thought as I was sitting on there how Auckland might actually be like Portland was about 10 years ago when I first moved there- everything was just starting to develop- it's the most wonderful time to be living in a city- it's really like the springtime of the city- you know- everything is new- and different things are being tried- people are open to changes. I was thinking how lucky I am to be here right now. Because Auckland is only going to get better.

A day in the life... of Sara

6:24AM Wake up. Check watch. Not time yet.

6:30AM Mechanical greeting from cell phone, "It's time to get up! The time is 6:30." Repeats several times unless press snooze.

6:40AM "It's time to get up! The time is 6:40." Shut off alarm.

6:43AM Get out of bed. Stumble to bathroom.
What to wear? With only five outfits, the thought process goes like this: "Have I worn it yet this week? Does it smell?" Ok then.
Brave mirror (luckily can only see from chest up). Assess hair situation. If sticking up, apply water or hair paste as needed.
Insert contacts or select matching glasses for chosen outfit.

7:03AM Leave house. Walk to coffee shop. Meet same 60 year old lady on her morning exercise walk who wears cool metal magenta or red glasses every day, say "Morning."
Continue walking.

7:18AM Arrive at Kokako coffee shop. Greet Sam the skateboarder barista, "Morning, how are you?"
"I can't complain. Same as usual?"
"Yep."
Pour glass of water. Pick up New Zealand Herald. Select seat for the day. (Do not sit in same place every day, this would be dull.)

7:30AM "Long black" is delivered to my seat in small aqua-blue cup and saucer. (Long black is like an Americano with less water.)
Read paper, people watch, journal.

8:08AM Walk to street crossing. Push button. (If not on time, may be up to 5 minutes wait to cross street.)
While waiting, notice traffic piling up. Think how lucky I am to be walking.
Cross the street and walk up and down several hills through the Auckland Domain (a park) to the University. Admire beauty. Amazed again at lovely commute. Try to avoid psycho groundskeepers who drive riding mowers like Aucklanders drive cars. (Can they possibly mow any grass down at that speed?)
Wonder if I am getting into better shape with all this walking.

8:28AM Arrive at University. Enter building, use badge to get through security and walk up 5 flights of stairs, mildly wiped out. Wonder when it will get any easier.

8:30AM Pick up student/patient roster for the day. Greet front desk staff.
Debrief students. Read email, grade exams, consult, check patients, etc.

12:45PM Lunch. Walk across street to Domain Park. Sit under tree. Read. People watch. Sometimes joined by colleagues.

1:30PM Back at clinic. Walk up stairs. Still out of breathe.
Repeat morning schedule.

5:30PM Go home. Another walk in the park. Or lollygag around town, taking up to two hours to get there, sometimes with Ursula.

Evening Varied. Plop on couch. Read. Listen to music. Research travel destinations. Reflect on the meaning of life. Shower. Wonder what will happen in the next year.

9:30/10:00PM Crawl into single trundlebed. Bedtime.