tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-78101019957001089212024-03-04T22:00:56.126-08:00Kia Ora From TomorrowAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05321991410940383270noreply@blogger.comBlogger24125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7810101995700108921.post-30429706388590507902011-10-10T17:51:00.000-07:002011-10-10T17:51:16.908-07:00A Beautiful City for Rejuvenation<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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There were a lot of reasons I chose to come to New Zealand
to do my research on children’s lawyers. First, and most important for the
research, is that New Zealand is currently the only country that routinely
appoints lawyers to represent children in custody (not the word here) cases. Second,
I knew some people here in the legal profession who could help me get
acquainted with it. Third, it is beautiful. </div>
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I got to see a lot of the NZ beauty back in January when I
first arrived, and I took a wee trip up to Napier in June to grab some sun, but
much of my time here has been spent in front of a computer. Sure, the scenery
is gorgeous, but my back is also to the window. And don’t get me started about
the wind . . . it’s killing me. So, with my rough draft sent to my advisor, and
Yom Kippur approaching, I knew it was a perfect time to take a few days and get
away to somewhere beautiful.</div>
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I chose Queenstown. Had I done more research, I might have
chosen not to go, but luckily, I’m not very good at planning. Queenstown exists
as a city for one reason – tourists. The population of 15,000 all work in some
form of tourism. Queenstown is the adventure capital of the world, claiming
fame as the city where bungy jumping was invented. But that is just the
beginning of the possibilities. You can skydive, parasail, paraglide, jetboat,
swing through canyons, etc. Of course, I knew about that, but I tend to not
like incredibly touristy places, and had I known that Queenstown is New
Zealand’s number 1 tourist destination, I may have stayed away. But I did not
know that, so I went.</div>
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There are no words to describe the awesomeness that is
Queenstown especially in the spring. The city sits on Queenstown Bay, a small inlet off the massive
Wakatipu Lake. Overshadowing the lake is the Remarkables, a mountain range also
known as the Southern Alps. It is an alpine land of epic proportions, and each
step reveals new beauty. But the beauty is deeper than the eyes. The Earth
itself is full of vibrant energy, and I have no doubt the Maori were right to
call what is now Queenstown Hill, “Te Tapu-Nui,” which “signifies intense
sacredness” according to the plaque on the hill. It was on that hill where I
found my breath again, where I felt my shoulders drop away from my ears on
their own accord, and the beauty of the world filled my soul again. And it was while taking the time to stop and notice that I saw how spring emerges.</div>
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Sometimes you just have to get away.</div>
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I also took a day away from news on Saturday, which was Yom
Kippur. Fasting from food is difficult for me because I get sick, but I decided
to fast from my internet addiction, and it was a great decision. Several times
throughout the day, I found myself reaching for my phone to instinctively check
my email only to remember that there were beautiful mountains, trees, and a
lake beckoning me instead. I was happy to give them my undivided attention. </div>
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And Queenstown offered one more thing I have had trouble finding in New Zealand - healthy food in restaurants. Do not misunderstand, I love Indian food as much as anyone, but it is not the healthiest, and the one thing I miss more than anything from the United States are healthy salads/sandwiches. Ok, Trader Joe's is still up there, but the sentiment is the same. Healthy food is not easy to find here, especially outside of Wellington and Auckland. But Queenstown had two great restaurants . . . and a Mexican one, where I did not eat, but you have to see this sign.</div>
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Some things should not be allowed.</div>
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Going to Queenstown was one of the best decisions I have
ever made, and it also helped me face another fear – heights! I jumped off a
mountain, but not with a rope attached to my ankle. Instead, I was attached to
another person and a glider. I went paragliding. It was absolutely incredible.
Not only was the view fantastic, but the feeling of being in the air and
gliding back down to the Earth was unlike anything I have ever experienced
before. If you have the opportunity, take it. I was scared to go, but I made
sure to announce my plans on facebook. I did not want to face the public
ridicule of backing out from fear. It was awesome.</div>
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The Remarkables at sunrise.</div>
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The next morning at sunrise (yes, I get up early)!</div>
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No words, simply incredible. :)</div>
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A view from the sacred mountain.</div>
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Emerging pinecones. I finally took the time to pay attention. Nature is amazing!</div>
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So the cheesy Lord of the Rings Tour, paragliding, hiking,
and sitting and meditating on a beach helped me place the thesis behind for a
few moments and remember there is more to New Zealand, and life, than sitting
with my back to a window staring at a computer screen. </div>
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Thanks, Queenstown!</div>
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<span style="font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">©
Rebecca Stahl 2011, all rights reserved. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<!--EndFragment-->Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05321991410940383270noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7810101995700108921.post-33998091360949169382011-10-02T12:16:00.000-07:002011-10-02T12:16:55.943-07:00When the Irish Come to Town
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Dunedin, the city where I am living, has a reputation for
two things to non New Zealanders: albatross and penguins. Ok, maybe its
Scottish history as well. But this is not a post about those wonderful, and
beautiful, parts of this city.</div>
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To New Zealanders, Dunedin has a reputation for two things
as well: it’s bloody cold, and it has quite the student life. I sort of laughed
at the latter; I was, after all, born in Michigan and went to the University of
Michigan as an undergraduate. But the Kiwis are right; Dunedin is cold. It is
bone-chillingly cold, and the lack of insulation and central heating in the
homes and public buildings just makes it worse. But this is not a post about
the cold either. After all, it is spring here . . . and beautiful. </div>
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The Church on the Octagon on a beautiful spring morning in Dunedin. </div>
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When I would tell Kiwis I would be studying at the
University of Otago, they would always tell me about the cold, and then
immediately about the student life. And no, I do not mean intramural sports. I
mean alcohol. I mean couch burning. I mean students 18-year-olds from all over
New Zealand (and on study abroad from all over the world) coming here just to
party. It’s a great university, but the drinking culture is insane.</div>
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But this is not even a post about the students here, though
it lays a nice foundation. As I mentioned in <a href="http://kiaorafromtomorrow.blogspot.com/2011/09/still-outsider.html">the last post</a>, New Zealand is
hosting the Rugby World Cup, and Dunedin had hosted four games: England vs.
Argentina; England vs. Georgia (I went to that one); England vs. Romania; and
Italy vs. Ireland. I though the Argentineans were boisterous. The Georgians and
Romanians simply did not show up in vast enough numbers to comment on their
presence. </div>
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Yesterday, however, Dunedin became a sea of green. I have
never been to Ireland. I came close to going once, but decided I did not want
to go up only for two days. If I am going to visit, I am going to spend at
least a week. When living in France, I think the Irish were playing the French
in soccer, and I saw the Irish fans under the Eiffel Tower. That was hours of
amusement. But Paris is big, and they had plenty of places to go.</div>
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Dunedin, by contrast, is the size of Ann Arbor, about
100,000 (slightly more) people. I heard a rumour yesterday afternoon that when
the Irish played the United States (and beat us 22-10, not a bad showing by the US) in New Plymouth, they
drank the town dry. New Plymouth is smaller than Dunedin, and it is not a
college town. I laughed and said, “Dunedin will be fine.”</div>
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Never underestimate the power of the Irish. Apparently, and
this is still rumour, several bars in town ran out of beer, and ran out of it
early. That is not totally surprising considering I saw them drinking on my way to yoga
. . . at 9am. By 6pm, when I went back to town, it was packed! And I mean
packed! Of course there were people at the Irish bar. But the Octagon, the
centre of town, was fuller than I had ever seen it. The top photo shows you
what kind of day it was, so it is not surprising that people wanted to be
outside. </div>
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The Irish bar in town full of green!</div>
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Aww, new art and old. And green!</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJKQ3h8KYcyd3qzJAruauZXH_eAdqlqANmscugBEGB9qzb-MGbSmqGaeVbXIP-Ag2MjCeShDahX7xjneofBL0DiJVCG3TwroaSU3wmwZrV-vQbaG7_NSJfbzVLvGa42n9fuuMtTjeTeg/s1600/P1030444.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJKQ3h8KYcyd3qzJAruauZXH_eAdqlqANmscugBEGB9qzb-MGbSmqGaeVbXIP-Ag2MjCeShDahX7xjneofBL0DiJVCG3TwroaSU3wmwZrV-vQbaG7_NSJfbzVLvGa42n9fuuMtTjeTeg/s320/P1030444.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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The day stayed gorgeous (unusual in the town that can easily have four seasons in a day three times over) as the masses headed to the game</div>
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Around 7pm, people started walking to the stadium, but they
ran into a bit of trouble. New Zealand has another little quirk: EFTPOS. Kiwis
carry almost no cash. There is no need. Everyone pays with EFTPOS (the “O” is
pronounced like possum, not post; I get corrected frequently on that one). What
is this craziness? I had to learn from Lonely Planet, and thank goodness I did.
It means, “Electronic Funds Transfer Point of Sale.” In the United States, we
simply say debit. But I’m not judging. </div>
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Unfortunately, the Rugby stadium only takes cash. And for
some reason, New Zealand is not good on taking credit cards for which you have
to sign (aka any credit card that is not also a debit/EFTPOS), so it meant
these traveling Irish, drinking the town dry, were also taking all the cash. It
is a sad sight to see long lines at the ATM only to get there and see this
sign. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0l6wN6Og3nzkpdU2M29TcO2xvDBlVuVZOiEb9Sa_IdFzVJTQCmGx5HOpS8SFLNb6iu51yUPzvg7xwxjOKa7hW8kz3m0ELTFBsXuOiAJ6DBBcL2_Kc_dPxJfb2u6cAJEpmUO-21L1Szw/s1600/P1030451_edited.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0l6wN6Og3nzkpdU2M29TcO2xvDBlVuVZOiEb9Sa_IdFzVJTQCmGx5HOpS8SFLNb6iu51yUPzvg7xwxjOKa7hW8kz3m0ELTFBsXuOiAJ6DBBcL2_Kc_dPxJfb2u6cAJEpmUO-21L1Szw/s320/P1030451_edited.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<br /></div>
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And yes, the ANZ bank was out of money too.</div>
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It is even sadder to see them all the way down the street. </div>
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Well, I ran into a friend and headed up to a “quiet” bar,
and when I emerged at 8:30 to meet another friend, the game had begun, and the
Octagon was empty. Completely empty. I then met my friend at the Irish bar,
which was crowded, but not nearly as bad as before, and we went upstairs and
managed to find a seat. I met some new people, got hassled by a very, very
drunk Kiwi, and actually watched some of the game. </div>
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Ireland won. 36-6. I was in a taxi just after it finished
(actually left the bar about 10 minutes before the end of the game to beat the
crowd). But fear not, I saw some revelers . . . at 6:45am! Yes, the only
restaurant open 24 hours in Dunedin is McDonald’s. Yes, they did some great
business.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgI8WPH7jI4w-n3oZGSII6rapu2NyOoBdJi4nSAf_uX3_nigV1sUjzZi_urkRR7eT3PjN4elf5fo_mhuq71k9VXPbmGTiCJsSU8pRvvLvX9OyO4gbApiFlINAf51Hag55kvZHIWkkaaFg/s1600/P1030453.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgI8WPH7jI4w-n3oZGSII6rapu2NyOoBdJi4nSAf_uX3_nigV1sUjzZi_urkRR7eT3PjN4elf5fo_mhuq71k9VXPbmGTiCJsSU8pRvvLvX9OyO4gbApiFlINAf51Hag55kvZHIWkkaaFg/s320/P1030453.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<br /></div>
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McDonald's -- the morning after.</div>
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And yes, the ducks are glad the Irish came to town as well.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkJG5jeLWkcbChq50jb7VOCRLGCQpSoDUfNgK2g8AHMGJgpIJbXZ1EpWOxZWA6fusrINnC9wdmSRFliNe8Gx7W8w7Fqhl_w8c_Fh6-z1XCbBGctTHPW-yjXlyBVnr-X9KTRT2q-vpTKw/s1600/P1030454.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkJG5jeLWkcbChq50jb7VOCRLGCQpSoDUfNgK2g8AHMGJgpIJbXZ1EpWOxZWA6fusrINnC9wdmSRFliNe8Gx7W8w7Fqhl_w8c_Fh6-z1XCbBGctTHPW-yjXlyBVnr-X9KTRT2q-vpTKw/s320/P1030454.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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The ducks -- the morning after</div>
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Overall, I can say, the Irish know how to have a good time.
They were wonderfully polite and did their best to help the sad state of the
Dunedin economy. I wish them all the best.</div>
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<br /></div>
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I’m also a bit sad it was the last game in Dunedin. Dunedin
is rarely full of people, and it has been wonderful to see so many people
around, music in the streets (including a friend playing bass in a band), and
streets closed to <a href="http://kiaorafromtomorrow.blogspot.com/2011/04/in-case-you-thought-life-here-was.html">the crazy drivers</a>, so pedestrians can roam about. Rugby may
be a brutal sport, but it draws people out and into celebration mode. Good
times!</div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><span>©</span> Rebecca Stahl 2011, all rights reserved</span></div>
<!--EndFragment--><br />
<!--EndFragment-->Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05321991410940383270noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7810101995700108921.post-28260722833137675362011-09-09T16:46:00.000-07:002011-09-09T16:46:56.989-07:00Still an Outsider<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
A few months ago, <a href="http://kiaorafromtomorrow.blogspot.com/2011/05/feeling-like-outsider.html">I posted</a> about being an outsider in New
Zealand as President Obama announced that Osama Bin Laden was dead. I ended the
post with the hope that with the release of ten years of pent up tension,
perhaps we could come to a point in time where understanding of each other
trumps the notion of outsider. I still have that sentiment, but this week that
label, whatever it means, is front and center (or should I say, centre?).</div>
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<br /></div>
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Before coming to New Zealand, I was aware of a few
things about the country other than their legal system. I knew that Dunedin (where my university
is located and I live) has penguins and a farmer’s market. I knew that
Wellington is one of the windiest cities in the world and reminds people of San
Francisco (for the record, it <b>is</b> San
Francisco!). I also knew that New Zealand would be hosting the Rugby World Cup
starting in September. I knew a few other things, but those were the important ones for me at the time.</div>
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<br /></div>
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I know next-to-nothing about rubgy. When I tell rugby fans
this, they always tell me about the one rule I do know – you can only throw the
ball backwards. I have come to realize that the rules are just as confusing to
people who watch the game regularly as they are to me as an American who has
attended only one rugby match and who first had the rules explained in French.
But I was (and am) excited about the World Cup. </div>
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I love the atmosphere that international sporting events
bring, even when people drink far too much, and we can add that to the list of
things I knew about Kiwis – they like to drink . . . a lot! But this did not
stop me from heading to the centre of Dunedin last night to watch the opening
match at a bar in town. The game between Tonga and the All Blacks (New Zealand)
began with both teams doing a haka, and ended with the All Blacks clobbering Tonga. I left
a little after halftime; it was well past my bedtime by then.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3fTfpXvcWS5WvxZC6DfkvBoIp0eYvBD0P17GNGEG6EacLl6ELxR3z5qxs46B7sW4mq0JIktBlP7DZiIL3b-E5mrM5E8kuizoneTHwWBUJsXcqGqFK77JrFXCfd_sdmG8DZsBrIQhIfQ/s1600/P1030101.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3fTfpXvcWS5WvxZC6DfkvBoIp0eYvBD0P17GNGEG6EacLl6ELxR3z5qxs46B7sW4mq0JIktBlP7DZiIL3b-E5mrM5E8kuizoneTHwWBUJsXcqGqFK77JrFXCfd_sdmG8DZsBrIQhIfQ/s320/P1030101.JPG" width="232" /></a></div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
The All Blacks preparing for their <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Haka_(sports)">haka</a> before the game. </div>
</div>
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I have tickets for one game – between England and Georgia. I
am excited to be here for the largest party New Zealand has ever, and perhaps
will ever, throw. But I am also a wee bit confused and overwhelmed. I know the
USA Eagles are not going to win, and other than not wanting to be in New
Zealand if the All Blacks lose, I do not care at all about the outcome. But it
is amazing to watch how communities can come together, cheer their teams, and
support an atmosphere of sport. It is amazing to see how we can all create one large community.</div>
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It stands in stark contrast to the other event this week –
the 10-year anniversary of September 11. Tomorrow is September 11<sup>th</sup>,
sort of. It is September 11<sup>th</sup> in New Zealand, but not yet in the
USA. Ironically, the Eagles are playing their first Rugby World Cup match
tomorrow, wearing black armbands and taking a moment of silence before the
game. </div>
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But once again I am not sure how to act as an American. I am
not usually very interested in “special” days. I firmly believe that everyday
is special, and that anniversaries, birthdays, etc. are odd salutes to events
we should honor all the time. But they are also moments of reflection, moments
that almost force us, in our hurried lives, to stop and think. While I would
like to believe that we can do that without these odd sentimentalizations (is it
ok if I make up words?), I know that most of us, me included, do not do so. </div>
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But something I have not shared on this blog is the amount
of anti-American sentiment I have felt since arriving in New Zealand.
Strangely, I have felt more here than I ever did living in France, even while
living there when we invaded Iraq and again when we reelected President Bush.
Perhaps I notice it here because I am more aware. Perhaps I notice it because I
did not expect it. Perhaps I notice it because there really is a lot. I do not
know the reason, but I have noticed it. And it makes me wonder how I am going
to feel being a day ahead, and a world removed, from the memorials of 9/11.</div>
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I have been teaching a weekly yoga class here on Mondays.
For those keeping score, that is 9/12 here, but 9/11 back in the States. I am
going to dedicate the class to those affected by that horrific day ten years
ago, not just those who died that day, but all the pain, death, and horror that
have filled the last ten years. But I know there are people in who will be
there who think US Foreign Policy is the bane of humanity. How do I convey the
fear and confusion we all felt ten years ago? How do I honor that fear and
honor the horror that the US has entailed since? How do I honor the confusion this has created? </div>
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So, the weekend began with a coming-together of the world,
and that celebration will continue, and I will remain just as confused as
everyone about rugby. But in the midst of it all, there is a moment to reflect
and feel oddly “American” in a world that is quickly, and obviously, shrinking.
I guess this is part of Senator Fulbright’s vision. We learn about each other,
but we also have to learn how to share our cultures and ideas in ways that make
sense to others. That is a lesson I am learning more and more each day.</div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: xx-small; line-height: 19px; white-space: pre-wrap;">© 2011 Rebecca Stahl, all rights reserved</span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05321991410940383270noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7810101995700108921.post-73431548538085713512011-08-03T17:32:00.000-07:002011-08-03T17:32:23.647-07:00Good old-fashioned “Kiwi” hospitality
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I started this post a long time ago, and I am only now
getting around to finishing it, but I was so inspired by the talk I attended
that I really wanted to share, so even though it was a few weeks ago now, I
think it is really pertinent. Plus, it helps me reflect on something positive
in a week in which I have felt less than productive, and a bit disheartened
with respect to my thesis and work here.</div>
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A few weeks ago, New Zealand celebrated Maori language week,
during which Kiwis all across the country celebrate Te Reo Maori (Maori
language). Unfortunately, I missed most of the events, but I managed to make it
to two events at the Dunedin Public Art Gallery one Saturday. The first was a
tour of the gallery completely in Maori, and the second was a talk, in English,
on the topic of the week – Manaakitanga, a word generally translated into
English as hospitality, but as I learned, means so much more. </div>
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Taking a tour in a foreign language is interesting. I could
see the pieces of art to which the tour guide was referring as well as the tour
guide’s gestures and expressions. I could see how those who understood reacted,
and I could read the signs next to many of the pieces. But I understood about
one word in the entire 45-minute tour. And I am not alone in not understanding.
According to the statistics at the talk I attended, in 1910, 92% of Maori spoke
te reo Maori, but by 1978 that number was down to 20%. In 2006, only 4% of New
Zealanders were conversational in te reo Maori. 4%! It is a national language!</div>
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<br /></div>
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I am not going to use this post as a place to discuss the
arguments for and against saving a language. To me, it is a no-brainer;
language is culture, and it binds people together and keeps our cultures alive.
The talk on Manaakitanga I attended is a perfect example.</div>
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<br /></div>
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Like so many words central to a culture, there is not one
translation of Manaakitanga. The presenter offered the following: hospitality,
hosting, tolerance, caring, respect, and *discipline. It reminded me of the
YMCA Four Core Values, which are Respect, Caring, Honesty, and Responsibility. She
explained what these words mean and how they permeate Maori, and now Kiwi,
culture.</div>
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Hospitality and hosting mean you never turn anyone away.
They also mean never showing up empty-handed. Respect, caring, and tolerance have
the same meaning as everywhere, but the speaker mentioned a few particular to
Maori culture, including taking your shoes off when you enter the home, never sitting
on a table, and of particular concern to her – learning to say peoples’ names
correctly.</div>
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<br /></div>
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I have talked before about the incredible hospitality of the
Kiwis. I have never before felt so accepted in a place by people, even if there
are some disagreements about world events. What I have not mentioned, and that
the speaker noted, is that one way to effect Manaakitanga in the workplace is
to welcome visitors and offer refreshments. I have not gone to any office here
where they did not offer me a tea or coffee, or as they say, a “hot drink.” The
other day I went to Volunteer Otago’s office, and when I declined the hot
drink, the person said, “are you sure? Do you mind if I have mine?” What do you
say in response? Of course I do not mind!</div>
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I also really liked the explanation of Manaakitanga being
about *discipline. After further explanation, it became clear that this
translation is broader than the word discipline and is really more about the
“negative” (in the sense of not us being the person being respectful) side of respect, where we ensure that boundaries are respected and
either we, or others, are also being treated well. The examples the speaker
gave included Correcting undesirable/unacceptable behaviour in visitors to our
home and “Having the courage to tell others (in a diplomatic way) if their
behaviour is inappropriate,” in the context of the workplace. </div>
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<br /></div>
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Thus, Manaakitanga is about how you personally act, but also
how you engage with the community as a whole. More importantly, even if the
word is not well known to the average New Zealander, the concepts are. I still
believe that language preservation is important, and there are some movements
trying to encourage that in New Zealand, including Maori language week. But it
is encouraging to see the influences and preservation of culture even when
language might not be up to par. </div>
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The talk was a slightly closer look at one way that Maori culture
has influenced the Pakeha, those of European descents who live in New Zealand. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I finally feel ready to write about
other ways in which I have seen a Maori influence on modern New Zealand
culture, but that is a post for another day. Until then, I am grateful for having
attended the tour and the presentation as a way to more fully understand how
language is a part of that. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #535353; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: xx-small; line-height: 19px; white-space: pre-wrap;">© 2011 Rebecca Stahl, all rights reserved</span></span></div>
<!--EndFragment-->Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05321991410940383270noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7810101995700108921.post-73473921362849591062011-07-02T12:33:00.000-07:002011-07-02T12:33:51.836-07:00Living up to a dream<!--StartFragment--> <br />
<div class="MsoNormal">Halfway through? Seriously? This week was our Mid-Year meeting for Fulbright, which means I have been here about ½ the total time I am going to be here. We had to provide reports about what we have been doing since arrival, both work related and not. Mine was a bit rambling. Why? Because my life has been a bit rambling. The good news is that I have sent in one chapter, I am getting responses to my survey, and I have begun another chapter. I think everything might just be coming together . . . finally. So, that meant another vacation, this time to Napier on the East Coast of the North Island. But more about that later.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">There were several highlights of the Fulbright event. First, as always, was seeing my fellow American Fulbrighters and the staff at Fulbright New Zealand. I cannot express in words the gratitude I feel for everyone in that office. They are all wonderful and supportive. And my fellow Fulbrighters are a ton of fun and some of the most interesting people I have ever met. I feel amazingly honoured to among their company. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">This trip was also an opportunity to meet the Kiwi Fulbrighters, most of whom head to the States in August and September. It was so great to hear about their future projects and share some tidbits about the United States (the important things, such as Trader Joe’s and craigslist). And I am super excited that one of them will be in Tucson and three are going to be in Los Angeles. I am looking forward to being able to share Tucson and the west with some Kiwi mates! </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Before we share the States with them, however, a few of us went to check out Lord of the Rings – The Return of the King, the Extended Version at Peter Jackson’s theatre, a very American in New Zealand sort of experience. I prepared by watching the first two films during the last week, and I have to say, there is a vast difference between the big screen and a Macbook screen. Other than the movie being four hours long, and going 2 hours beyond my bedtime, it was quite amazing. All three movies premiered in that theatre, and what was extra special was seeing places I recognize now. This country is truly magnificent.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">And I cannot forget the Fulbright Awards Ceremony / Alumni Banquet. We received lovely certificates, and we were able to see the people who have won the amazing diversity of awards administered by Fulbright New Zealand. I think there is something for everyone, so if you want to come down under, <a href="http://www.fulbright.org.nz/">check out the website</a>. I bet you find something for which you are eligible.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">While these events were all incredible highlights, I think the biggest surprise highlight for me was learning more about Senator Fulbright. I knew a wee bit about him prior to coming (<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/J._William_Fulbright">thanks, Wikipedia</a>), but I knew very little about him other than his influence in setting up the Fulbright program. In short, he was a man from Arkansas who went to Oxford on a Rhodes Scholarship that changed his life. Upon returning to the United States, someone told him he should run for office, and he served from 1943 until 1974 (some in the House and then in the Senate). He saw the end of WWII and the bomb and realized that the best way to avoid WWIII was to send people to be citizen diplomats and ambassadors. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><a href="http://kiaorafromtomorrow.blogspot.com/2011/03/being-citizen-ambassador.html">I have mentioned this before</a>, but learning more about him has me thinking about his ideals again. He was a Southern Democrat who was forever distraught by his failure to take on his party with respect to civil rights but who stuck to his principles against his friend President Johnson and helped bring about the truth of the Vietnam War. Bill Clinton spoke of him as a mentor. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">The film on Senator Fulbright led me to evaluate whether I am fulfilling his mission. Is it a problem that I have not learned to live comfortably with someone else? Is it a problem that I chose to travel to Napier alone instead of with my fellow Fulbrighters for the weekend? Is going to a Hare Krishna yoga studio something he expected? Is teaching yoga something more akin to his vision? Is sitting in a New Zealand hostel for an hour talking to a German woman and a Swiss woman about international affairs what he wanted us to do in his name? What about another hostel talking to a woman who worked in the family court system as a counsellor and is now retired?</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">And then my work. Does it match? Does it matter that I have met lawyers and judges in Wellington? Have I failed him by not reaching out in Dunedin? What happens if the New Zealand Minister of Justice says that lawyers for children should not exist in custody cases anymore because they are too expensive? What if I go back to the States and no one cares about this work? Senator Fulbright was a lawyer, but I do not get the impression that he practiced very long, or at all. My work may never make a difference to anyone.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Should I be working harder on my thesis? Should I be working harder on <a href="http://famlawshiftingparadigm.blogspot.com/">my new blog for family law professionals</a>? </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">At its simplest, a Fulbright scholarship is some money to help someone fulfill a degree (at least the kind I received). At its most complex, however, it means fulfilling Senator Fulbright’s vision. It means living up to an ideal of saving the world through diplomacy instead of war. The first time I lived in France, the United States invaded Iraq. The second time, we reelected President Bush. Since I have been here, we have assassinated Osama Bin Laden. War still happens. Can going to see movies at Peter Jackson’s theatre and going to free yoga classes that focus on community building change that?</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I want to say yes. I want to believe, as Senator Fulbright did, that we can make this difference, that as more people leave their safety nets, the world becomes a safer place, even if it means we find that we have some limits that we just cannot overcome . . . <a href="http://isyogalegal.blogspot.com/2011/06/frost-in-june.html">at least not yet.</a> I want to believe that it matters to his vision as much that I am in New Zealand as that <a href="http://isak.typepad.com/">my friend is in Kenya on her award</a>. I want to believe that by learning to represent children, I can help ensure that they live in a world full of opportunities and without the fear of bombs. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">In short, I want to be a Fulbright scholar in all senses of the world. I have five more months here. Only time will tell what happens. In the meantime, Napier is beautiful! </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #535353; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: xx-small; line-height: 19px; white-space: pre-wrap;">© 2011 Rebecca Stahl, all rights reserved</span></div><!--EndFragment-->Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05321991410940383270noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7810101995700108921.post-80695042944585304052011-06-27T13:27:00.000-07:002011-06-27T13:27:22.422-07:00A Wee Lay-up<!--StartFragment--> <br />
<div class="MsoNormal">I have lived abroad before, in France actually. I should, therefore, know what to expect about cultural differences, right? What I am finding instead is more often than not I am caught off guard by something someone says, or I say something that is completely inappropriate for the circumstances. But why?</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">English is my native language. French is not. Simple enough, I realize, but it makes all the difference and not in the way you might think. <a href="http://kiaorafromtomorrow.blogspot.com/2011/05/words-words-words.html">It is easier to be caught off guard in an English-speaking country</a> than a French-speaking one.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">While in France, I have to think about the correct word or phrase in every situation. The only way to continue to grow my French language skills is to be constantly “on,” constantly learning, and the only people from whom I learned were those with whom I would come into contact. I remember a particular day in France when I was talking to a friend, and I said, “<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Cambria; mso-hansi-font-family: Cambria;">ç</span>a peur.” It has no direct translation, but idiomatically it means, “that’s scary.” I was proud of myself. My friend laughed. To her, I was supposed to talk like a book, not a French person. Together we realized that I was integrating. It was a big step.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I do not have that problem in English. I do not have to be “on.” I just talk, right? I reckon, though, it is just a matter of time before I am keen to hang out and go for a wee drink, eh? Oh wait . . . </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I feel as though I am living in the twilight zone. I am not sure what my patterns are and what I consider normal anymore until I am confronted by something that seems strange. For example, many flights in New Zealand are on 60-seat planes. After flying a lot, the first time I had to get on a 737 (you know, what Southwest flies), I was struck by how big it is. I was just on one again yesterday, after not flying for awhile, and it felt “normal.” I guess time away from the extraordinary makes old friends ordinary.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">But this week has struck me on two fronts, woken me up to the fact that I really am in a foreign country that speaks a different language, sometimes a non-verbal one. (I have to share that, in college, I lived with 3-4 linguists, and these sorts of conversations dominate(d) our conversations.) </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">One of my friends here is from Australia, and she received two basketball tickets. She did what any normal, non-basketball going person would do – she called an American. Yes, my friends, I went to a basketball game in a small town in New Zealand. I would say it might be able to contend with Division B in college. Might is the operative word in that sentence. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhK2yM7Y3D2U9oEwE2IlQ1svdm6QC1_buSiDcDR_C8_9XR1OHAj36enhxgM8quaMb4qqvMpDrFZI8VSwO3r2jnhDJXPr4KHrMMUVZxdlvFl_YXW6KzA4Ig0RUoNnOnZ_McllNF8vYo1EA/s1600/P1020411-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhK2yM7Y3D2U9oEwE2IlQ1svdm6QC1_buSiDcDR_C8_9XR1OHAj36enhxgM8quaMb4qqvMpDrFZI8VSwO3r2jnhDJXPr4KHrMMUVZxdlvFl_YXW6KzA4Ig0RUoNnOnZ_McllNF8vYo1EA/s1600/P1020411-1.jpg" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">Proof.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Basketball, to me, is America. I played growing up, and as an almost 30-year-old woman, that is unusual in the rest of the world. Girls here play netball (I have no idea what it is, either), and in France, when I asked what girls do in school, my host sister said, “dance.” So, I am proud of the fact that basketball is a major sport in the United States, for boys and girls, and it is the only truly American sport, created in the 1880s at a YMCA. The point is that basketball makes me think about home.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">The announcer was about the most honest announcer I have ever heard. He told us how the team had been on and off all season, and this being the last game of the season, they had to really pull it together. If the other team scored an undefended point, we were sure to hear that a defender should have been there. It sounded like the commentary from Harry Potter Quidditch, not a basketball game. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">But the proof that I was not in America were the references to the wee layups and the wee free throws. Basketball Kiwified! And that was not all. In America, we root for our favorite teams, right? Well, rooting has quite a different connotation, and it is not something you discuss in public at family friendly events. Here, you support a team. I was careful . . . until I was not. Luckily, my friend understood, and no one else could hear me. It is hard to be on when at a place that feels so comfortable.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">So, the wee plays and careful word choice on my part made the evening interesting. I also had to explain the game to my friend; she had never before attended a basketball game. Luckily, it being New Zealand, the announcer also added in a bit of rule explanation. Apparently, this is not a popular sport here. Overall, I had a great time living in language/culture purgatory. An American movie helped me realize that I cannot escape it.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I am back up in Wellington for a few days; we have a Fulbright event to attend. I planned to stay with a friend Monday night, but thanks to the ash cloud, she is stuck away from Aotearoa, the land of the Long White Cloud (the Maori name for NZ), and instead of bugging someone last minute, I decided to stay in a hostel. Facebook was alive with great references to Bridesmaids, so I went to see what all the fuss was about. For the record, we must look insane to the rest of the world. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">First American movie in months, what is my first thought? They were driving on the wrong side of the road. Oy! I guess all my “<a href="http://isyogalegal.blogspot.com/2011/01/looking-right.html">look right</a>” reminding worked. While watching movies in France, I knew they were seeing a translation, which is really an adaptation (another thesis of mine in my old life). The funniest experience I ever had was seeing Matrix 2 in France during the scene where the “bad guy” repeats about every French swear word there is in a matter of about 10 seconds. The place erupted in laughter. But here in NZ, they do not translate the films. There are no subtitles running in Kiwi. They get to see the American version even if it makes no sense. And I get to see where I fit into the mix.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Before the movie, the woman sitting next to me was explaining living in Christchurch to a friend. I guess she moved up here or is visiting from the earthquake-weary city. I heard her explain the 22 February earthquake. I suppressed the urge to tell her I had also been there, to find a bond, but I sat there realizing I was in the Twilight Zone of my mind – somewhere between the United States and Aotearoa. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I may not struggle to find my words on a daily basis here, and I may technically understand everything that goes on around me, but each day, I am struck by the fact that I am not in the United States anymore. It is fun to see where I have transformed and what my new “normal” is. If nothing else, it keeps me on my toes, eh?</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #535353; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: xx-small; line-height: 19px; white-space: pre-wrap;">© 2011 Rebecca Stahl, all rights reserved</span></div><!--EndFragment-->Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05321991410940383270noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7810101995700108921.post-73069004274114489332011-06-05T14:57:00.000-07:002011-06-07T01:35:17.901-07:00Taking a Break<div class="MsoNormal">I have been in New Zealand for over four months now. In some ways it feels like just yesterday that I arrived, but so much has happened since I have been here that it sometimes feels like I have been here forever. The initial high of travel, orientation, the Future Partner Forum, and a return to Dunedin, has worn off. Now I am back to life as life is – sitting at a desk all day “working.”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Yup, my life has taken on a similar routine to being in the States, the only difference being the lack of Trader Joe’s. One person in the States said to me, “I thought you were just traveling around.” Nope, I am no longer a tourist, at least not now. And just like at home, the routine sets in. Things have been difficult to say the least. Writing a thesis is hard, the weather has been cold, there is no insulation, and yes, I miss Trader Joe’s. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">So, just like I do at home in the States, I spend all day sitting at a desk staring at a computer screen, though if we are friends on facebook, you may have noticed that I have recently learned about legal resources in paper, but that is a story for another day. I should also mention that my desk is within a room with about 40-50 other postgraduate thesis students, and although there is a window, my desk faces away from it. Do I need to mention the florescent lights, or is that already part of your mental picture of the place? </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">As someone who teaches Stress Management workshops, I knew I had to get away. I had to get away from the routine, away from the energy of the room, and away from my cold house. So I decided to head to Victorian New Zealand, also known as Oamaru (or Oamuru as Google Maps calls it) for the weekend. Oamaru is only about 1.5 hours from Dunedin, and like nearly every other city in NZ, it is right on the coast. What makes Oamaru unique is two-fold. First, and less well known, it was one of the first cities to boom in New Zealand, and at one point was the same size as Los Angeles. The city boasts the first shipment of frozen meat. But then it crashed, and it crashed hard. Some thought it would never recover, and the buildings sat in disrepair for years.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">That is where the second point comes in – the one for which Oamaru is best known. All the buildings here are built in Oamaru stone or Whitestone. Better known as limestone to those of us not from New Zealand, Oamaru stone is everywhere in the city. Interestingly, the history video (did I mention I love museums?) said that one of the reasons Oamaru grew so fast was because there were no trees here, so farming was easy, but that also made building from timber difficult – thus the stone! Well, with a booming economy, unlimited (or so they thought) limestone, and an architect who loves all things classic and beautiful, you get historic Oamaru. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBLT9GmbV1DIz1Tm_Zcr6-a6PDkIMo0hjPoyUWwjBUOy76XmrAUSon3bDBkJjdlqw-jdr_sEy7dGfnhw8lfsBbHGHc2xtw3iQWnhn-OXHrDt0ZJ9wJtjW3RTD2DcfB0YYKrKOxcgSB_g/s1600/P1020209.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBLT9GmbV1DIz1Tm_Zcr6-a6PDkIMo0hjPoyUWwjBUOy76XmrAUSon3bDBkJjdlqw-jdr_sEy7dGfnhw8lfsBbHGHc2xtw3iQWnhn-OXHrDt0ZJ9wJtjW3RTD2DcfB0YYKrKOxcgSB_g/s320/P1020209.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">The main street in Oamaru with all the limestone buildings.</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisIuH7v3IeU86bRSwpOKzLqa7Aq_oNACBg5mtWFPP3sC3JzS8LRfwwbC14PRpQsAzY1R_MyskRxk1fXVOwBKgS15X3JLRnc8W39CdQcfD6eqjgLUgsm06Djjh8-8SN8Q42jFmRBhXDGQ/s1600/P1020110.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisIuH7v3IeU86bRSwpOKzLqa7Aq_oNACBg5mtWFPP3sC3JzS8LRfwwbC14PRpQsAzY1R_MyskRxk1fXVOwBKgS15X3JLRnc8W39CdQcfD6eqjgLUgsm06Djjh8-8SN8Q42jFmRBhXDGQ/s320/P1020110.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">A beautiful sunset over the sea!</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">And you cannot be on the Otago coast without another friend – PENGUINS!! I was so excited when I learned I would be living in Dunedin that they have penguins. But Oamaru has more, many, many more. One kind are called Yellow-eyed Penguins in English, but their Maori name – hoihui – literally means noise-maker. I tried to video the noise, but alas, when I ran the video the penguin stopped. Oh well. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgg-KmWTMRjpK76ZShyphenhyphenNtozj8UyskYXE2uAi1E_gDAlWgOrq1xuWGe4Fe-S1XJ1BJzFsrkt9w3R7dCiQ09hu6DDjPjXQHyIhHuZw1MlI7CAEFkBYYAdT0iLqKFTniDgCizh79tKh5FrxA/s1600/P1020250.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgg-KmWTMRjpK76ZShyphenhyphenNtozj8UyskYXE2uAi1E_gDAlWgOrq1xuWGe4Fe-S1XJ1BJzFsrkt9w3R7dCiQ09hu6DDjPjXQHyIhHuZw1MlI7CAEFkBYYAdT0iLqKFTniDgCizh79tKh5FrxA/s320/P1020250.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">A sign for the penguins. These signs are all over the city. </div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSp6AxdIYi-Q-d9meMVXsie-CnSU8hxHluDpeJxOIwTnUbRLhlQMz4AAeXO6-jF3mEmtxG-W-isK1TFT93yRH_KZeoU0QtbQxMlfqWsBgy4dsi3-edi2BkvB54Wk08-N-uR-eKiRijAQ/s1600/P1020117.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSp6AxdIYi-Q-d9meMVXsie-CnSU8hxHluDpeJxOIwTnUbRLhlQMz4AAeXO6-jF3mEmtxG-W-isK1TFT93yRH_KZeoU0QtbQxMlfqWsBgy4dsi3-edi2BkvB54Wk08-N-uR-eKiRijAQ/s320/P1020117.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">Yellow-eyed penguin drying itself. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Then I went to see the colony of little blue penguins. There are over 500 penguins who live in the colony, and in the winter (which is now – we are upside down, remember?) there are usually about 30-60 who come home on any given night. We saw 126! It was absolutely incredible! What is most incredible is <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">how</i> they come ashore. The waves are intense (especially the night I was there), and these little penguins ride those waves into the rocky shore, get thrashed against the rocks, then come out standing and running, yes running, up the rocks to their grassy haven with a wee stop to dry and oil themselves. Who knew that penguins could climb so well? They truly are beautiful and amazing, and apparently slightly mean, little birds. Half the size of the Yellow-eyed Penguins, they are the smallest penguins in the world, and they are social, and oh so cute. Unfortunately, the staff at the colony do not allow photos, and they are nocturnal, so when I went the next night just to the beach to see some, and I did, the only picture I got is, well black. Yes, I was the person on the beach informing other people not to use their flash. I’m <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">that</i> person. If you are interested, there is a link below my black photo to some online photos. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj97Vyv2h7VfGzRKCwhRMO5pGnaiEnlDYwg4v_BcJDu-BjH6hTagPGkh9jRJrJ5gU2cpmZ2o0T_WAwoUS2ZJdUrXBP_Cfbn91-orVBUc0kSTTe6ffb1eHbokKK4h7UDk5Zzx-nZMdGLkg/s1600/P1020280.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj97Vyv2h7VfGzRKCwhRMO5pGnaiEnlDYwg4v_BcJDu-BjH6hTagPGkh9jRJrJ5gU2cpmZ2o0T_WAwoUS2ZJdUrXBP_Cfbn91-orVBUc0kSTTe6ffb1eHbokKK4h7UDk5Zzx-nZMdGLkg/s320/P1020280.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">They are serious. They want to protect the penguins.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnxqGd9MF1l6lsz01ZbPl-xTKgZAIm0XYeeGe9yKC4TiayuzgLBt03QsadecYqnACKMcAE71mER8CB6AJERWv-ycJ5s3NR9an0PXgGSuX4lj3iC-0GGt_2AKIHkPIpAiCR0MMAlzdTKQ/s1600/P1020293.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnxqGd9MF1l6lsz01ZbPl-xTKgZAIm0XYeeGe9yKC4TiayuzgLBt03QsadecYqnACKMcAE71mER8CB6AJERWv-ycJ5s3NR9an0PXgGSuX4lj3iC-0GGt_2AKIHkPIpAiCR0MMAlzdTKQ/s320/P1020293.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><o:p>Sad. This is all I could get from the blue penguins. But <a href="http://www.penguins.co.nz/?images">click here</a> to see them. </o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><o:p><br />
</o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal">So, this trip was just what I needed. It only rained on Sunday morning, but cleared up in the afternoon. I walked from one end of the city to the other, visited museums, saw Victorian garb, saw the Steampunk festival participants (folks who dress up in punkified Victorian garb – I don’t get it either, but the photo below is a woman in Victorian dress with Medieval additions because normally when she dresses in costume, it is Medieval costume). And I visited the Whitestone cheese gallery (everything here has whitestone in its name). I love Whitestone cheese. It is sold throughout the country, and apparently is distributed in the States as well, so I visited their factory. So cool and super yummy! </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh12F3almnC5LYoa4TbfmNf0OwDMWpp4c1IBFxoMRJWker0VBat2ut3pFAKwJPDBlU57P177XSClTcvSt7ePaRvVTBN7XUFCMR3XheBj_GjFXXSPSDoVgPm-aetTRiw9c3Orn1kVwvRgw/s1600/P1020214.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh12F3almnC5LYoa4TbfmNf0OwDMWpp4c1IBFxoMRJWker0VBat2ut3pFAKwJPDBlU57P177XSClTcvSt7ePaRvVTBN7XUFCMR3XheBj_GjFXXSPSDoVgPm-aetTRiw9c3Orn1kVwvRgw/s320/P1020214.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">A view of the street with some dressed-up people.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">And on my walk back to town yesterday evening, I was talking to myself. Don’t judge, I find this is when I have my best ideas. Crazy? Perhaps, but who writes a thesis that is not a bit crazy? And I had a great insight into my thesis while talking to myself. That insight will be shared in November when I turn it in. Ironically it was right in front of the whiskey tasting room where I had tasted some of the only whiskey ever made in New Zealand earlier in the day. But it made me feel like I could go back to Dunedin on track. I guess I just needed to get away! So, I cannot say that Oamaru is a typical tourist destination in New Zealand, except to see penguins, but it truly is a great place for a weekend, and a great place to rejuvenate. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEHH409hOEzKsPC75lReAy4AZcbyooDCFmQVlDnJpgXO7ev8InZtUq6pynWvfZdYtB1L3DHt6Y-wEkc64TwFQaigv8LVLSm6dMaKg4gzWRzvjOGLVYlI6RKZ9YcEpKj_iknoe5cJFdIw/s1600/P1020278.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEHH409hOEzKsPC75lReAy4AZcbyooDCFmQVlDnJpgXO7ev8InZtUq6pynWvfZdYtB1L3DHt6Y-wEkc64TwFQaigv8LVLSm6dMaKg4gzWRzvjOGLVYlI6RKZ9YcEpKj_iknoe5cJFdIw/s320/P1020278.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">My point of inspiration. It had nothing to do with the whiskey, I promise.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Oh, and happy Queen’s Birthday! Today is a holiday in New Zealand celebrating the Queen’s Birthday, which is not today, but at least it is a day off. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Cheers!<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #535353; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: xx-small; line-height: 19px; white-space: pre-wrap;">© 2011 Rebecca Stahl, all rights reserved</span></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05321991410940383270noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7810101995700108921.post-91478010426166571432011-05-14T14:16:00.000-07:002011-06-07T01:35:45.336-07:00Words, Words, Words<div class="MsoNormal"></div><div class="MsoNormal">While culturally I have found few major differences between the United States and New Zealand, linguistically I may as well be speaking a foreign language here. When I was teaching English in France, I co-taught with a woman from England (a dear friend now), and once one of the students asked us if we spoke the same language. We just laughed. Here, not a day goes by that I do not learn a new word.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">The woman who so graciously allowed me to stay with her upon my arrival (only for 3 weeks longer than she had originally planned), and who will soon be <a href="http://www.odt.co.nz/news/dunedin/159568/vision-problems-led-writing-residency-hood">gracing the United States</a> (specifically Iowa) with her presence, let me borrow a book called A Kiwi-American dictionary. It was slightly, okay very, outdated, but it was hilarious. I reckon the time has come for me to share some of what I have learned – the top 10 kiwi words and phrases!</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">1.<span style="font: normal normal normal 7pt/normal 'Times New Roman';"> </span>Reckon – there is nothing inherently funny about the word reckon, but notice it in the sentence above. To an American, saying “I reckon” sounds a wee bit more proper than we would like. It sounds like Jon Stewart making fun of Queen Elizabeth. In kiwiland, I heard an 8-year-old say it . . . with a straight face!!</div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">2.<span style="font: normal normal normal 7pt/normal 'Times New Roman';"> </span>Wee – wee simply means small here, as in “a wee bit.” Here, it seems everyone says it all the time. And they say it without the use of “bit” after it. Thus, a wee nap is a proper use of the word.</div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">3.<span style="font: normal normal normal 7pt/normal 'Times New Roman';"> </span>Kiwi / kiwi / kiwifruit – now this just gets confusing. To an American, a kiwi is something you eat. Here, that would get you put in prison, either for killing an endangered bird or for cannibalism. A Kiwi is a person who lives here, a nickname of sorts for the folks who live in New Zealand. At first I was embarrassed to use it, but people here actually do use the word. Cool, eh? A kiwi is a small flightless bird. New Zealand used to be full of flightless birds because there were no predator mammals (the only native mammal in New Zealand is one species of bat). The kiwi is now incredibly endangered, and most people can only see them in wildlife reserves – my parents saw some when they were here. The kiwifruit? Well, that’s the fruit. They are gorgeous here (and by gorgeous I mean the taste, not the sight – that’s a kiwism as well). See my problem? It just gets so <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">confusing</i>!!</div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">4.<span style="font: normal normal normal 7pt/normal 'Times New Roman';"> </span>Zed – Ok, ok, it’s not <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">really</i> a word, but it is the last letter of the alphabet. The friendly friends to the north of the United States understand this one, but to those of us from that middle country of North America, this is an odd way to end the alphabet, especially when banks are called ANZ (pronounced A-N-Zed) and when you say X-Y-Z (pronounced X-Y-Zed). We knew we had been spending too much time in the <a href="http://kiaorafromtomorrow.blogspot.com/2011/04/conclusion-finally.html">Future Partners Forum</a> when I was talking and said X-Y-Zed and shortly thereafter one of our kiwi friends said X-Y-Zee. None of us knew where we were, which I guess was sort of the point of the partnership – finding new ways to get along. Let’s start with the last letter of the alphabet and move forward from there.</div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">5.<span style="font: normal normal normal 7pt/normal 'Times New Roman';"> </span>False friends – rooting and rubber. These may not be good in a Top 10 list, but they must be mentioned. Luckily I had been forewarned. In New Zealand, rooting means something very different than in the States. It means sex. Thus, you do not root for a team, and you certainly do not root around in your trunk for something you lost, especially because here, the trunk of a car is called the boot. And a rubber? Well, that is just an eraser, but something we must all warn the kiwis not to request in general public in the United States. </div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">6.<span style="font: normal normal normal 7pt/normal 'Times New Roman';"> </span>Sweet as! – used as an exclamation, as in “Sweet as!” There are simply no words to explain this. It just is . . . sweet as!</div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">7.<span style="font: normal normal normal 7pt/normal 'Times New Roman';"> </span>Sorted – “Have you got your flatting situation sorted?” Does this make any sense to an American? Try that being one of the first things you hear upon entering a country. I thought I did not understand French when I got there, but then I came to a country where they do not speak American. Sorted is just “to sort out,” but they use it here far more frequently. You get parking tickets sorted and plans sorted, etc. Luckily, I have met amazing people here, so my flatting situation is sorted until the end of my time here. </div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">8.<span style="font: normal normal normal 7pt/normal 'Times New Roman';"> </span>Cheers – often used in conjunction with “mate,” as in “cheers, mate.” Of course, mate it often saved for one’s actual mates. Thus, cheers can simply mean thanks. What a wonderful word that never ceases to make me smile.</div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">9.<span style="font: normal normal normal 7pt/normal 'Times New Roman';"> </span>Keen – This is a verb, as in “I’m keen to go on a hike out to the Peninsula.” In fact, my actual response was, “I’m hella keen.” I figure it’s time to meld some phrasing while I’m here. And yes, everyone says it here, just like reckon. They do not, however, say hella – but I can hope, right?</div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">10.<span style="font: normal normal normal 7pt/normal 'Times New Roman';"> </span>Good on you! – this is, by far, my favorite kiwi phrase. Oh, does it appear everywhere meaning “good for you,” sort of. It just seems to work for all situations where you want to tell someone that they are doing a good thing for the world. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">So, do we speak the same language? I have begun to understand kiwi English, and what is scarier, I have begun to speak like them. I reckon that will help me fit in better here, but it will be difficult to get my life sorted when I get back to the States if I forget how to talk like a Yankee. There are far more words I can share, but for now, that will do. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: xx-small; line-height: 19px; white-space: pre-wrap;">© 2011 Rebecca Stahl, all rights reserved</span></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05321991410940383270noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7810101995700108921.post-30986262897414736212011-05-02T12:39:00.000-07:002011-05-02T12:39:24.928-07:00Feeling like an outsider<!--StartFragment--> <br />
<div class="MsoNormal">This is a bit strange. I was planning to write about the word “kiwi” for my next post, but that will have to wait. World events have interrupted my plans again.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I was in the United States on September 11, 2001. Like everyone, I remember it like it was yesterday (with all caveats of what I know about the “truth” of memory). But I have been living abroad for two significant events of its aftermath . . . well, now three. I was living in France as a foreign exchange student when we first invaded Iraq, and I was living in France again, but as an English teaching assistant, when President Bush was reelected. I think it goes without saying that I had a lot of explaining to do as an American in France at those times. For the record, I was treated well and respectfully by the French, but that story is for another day. Those events were nothing compared to my reaction to yesterday.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I have been in New Zealand for just over 4 months (hard to believe really), yet my time here has not been uneventful. First, I was not only witness to, but a direct participant in, New Zealand’s major tragedy this year – <a href="http://kiaorafromtomorrow.blogspot.com/2011/02/as-luck-would-have-it.html">the Christchurch earthquake</a>. Although I was treated like royalty because of the group of people with whom I was in Christchurch, I did not feel like an outsider. If anything, it made me feel more like a kiwi (yes, I will explain why they use that word later, I promise). </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">But yesterday, that all changed. Yesterday, I wore the mark of American loud and clear, if only in my own head. Sitting alone at the Union Grill was a little surreal (after asking them to change the channel on the tv). Wolf Blitzer was blabbing nonsense to fill time, and my fellow kiwi students were walking around as though nothing were happening. I felt an obligation to inform them of the news but then realized that this topic did not hang over them like a dark shadow each and every day. So I sat there alone. Eventually, another American from the postgraduate suite joined me (we had never met before yesterday), and then two of my American friends. We had our little party. The rest of the world just kept on moving along as though nothing was happening.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">And then the announcement. Osama Bin Laden is dead. His death was ordered by the President. Watching President Obama, I thought he seemed “off.” With no emotion or guidance of how to respond, President Obama ended our 10-year national obsession with one person who we had been trained to vilify. Then he walked away, leaving the rest of us to figure out what to do about it.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">And that is when people cheered. They stormed the streets to chants of USA! USA!, to renditions of the Star Spangled Banner, and to songs of victory. My heart wrenched watching this. How could people celebrate? A man was dead. We killed to stop killing. It makes no sense. So what did I do? I went to yoga, of course. And yes, I felt calmer after the class, but my 40-minute walk home brought all those emotions back. What am I “supposed” to feel?</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">My flatmate is a 55-year-old woman getting her certificate in Peace and Conflict studies. I was dreading coming home to anyone. I wanted to be alone. I wanted to think. I wanted to understand. Instead, I asked her, “did you hear the news?”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Yes, what a tragedy,” was her response.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I sat shell-shocked. Wait, what? A tragedy? That was not the reaction in the States. It was not even my reaction. Was it supposed to be? Was this the “rational” response? I agonized more and more. She is right, but I found myself defending American policies with which I generally disagree – secret CIA operations that have as their stated purpose to capture, but everyone knows they will end in a bloodbath. I had to tell her that it is policy to try to capture, but he fought back. She said, “how do we know for sure he committed the attacks of 9/11?” I just sat there.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">But then I began to understand. I thought about the dancing in the streets. I took a broader view of it – what is it really? For ten years, we have been building tension. I saw a sign today that said something like, “It has been 9 years, 232 days since September 11, 2001. Where is Osama bin Laden?” Over bin was a cardboard piece that read, “dead.” We have been holding onto this. He was a symbol. I make no judgments as to whether he should have been, certainly not on this post, but regardless of what you think, he symbolized that tension. He symbolized that fear. The dancing and joy and excitement were less about a man dying than they were about relief.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">But what is this sense of relief? A release of tension. In yoga parlance, this jubilation was really just a really powerful exhale. It was a moment to let go of 10 years of tension. Rationally we know it will not make much difference. If anything, it could escalate anti-American sentiments. But we had the moment to let go, and we needed it. Our collective consciousness needed it. Was it “right?” I cannot judge that. I know that going forward this is a solemn event, one that should make us think very carefully about our definition of “terror” and what it means to the world, what it means to kill people without trial. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">But the exhale was needed first. Perhaps with that release, our pent-up tensions can give way to our frontal lobes and our rational thoughts. Perhaps the collective release, the American release, can open our eyes to what really happened – a man was killed. Perhaps we can release into a state of understanding that we are all connected, Kiwis and Americans, and Pakistanis, and Afghans. Perhaps with that release the notion of “outsider” will cease to exist. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: xx-small; line-height: 19px; white-space: pre-wrap;">© 2011 Rebecca Stahl, all rights reserved</span></div><!--EndFragment-->Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05321991410940383270noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7810101995700108921.post-29017762686410063522011-04-23T21:06:00.000-07:002011-06-07T01:37:30.830-07:00Conclusion . . . Finally<div class="MsoNormal">These last few weeks have been nothing short of crazy and hectic. But now I am back in Dunedin, I have a desk in the postgraduate suites, and I am back to procrastinating. A blog post seemed perfect!</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">You may remember that in February, I was in <a href="http://kiaorafromtomorrow.blogspot.com/2011/02/as-luck-would-have-it.html">Christchurch</a> as part of the US-NZ Partnership Forum. The Future Partners, as we were called, were scheduled to present our vision of the partnership/world in 20 years at 3:30 on February 22. Instead, we left Christchurch on a C-130 Hercules.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">The people in charge of the partnership forum still wanted us to present our ideas. Thus, they brought almost all of us future partners back together in Wellington two weeks ago, and over two days, we hammered out our ideas and vision for the future. We then presented those ideas to a small group of people in Wellington, and it was recorded. Last week, four of us presented the same presentation again in Auckland. We were physically at the NZ-US Council, and we were on a video link to the US-NZ Council in Washington, D.C. That was the official close of the Partnership Forum, just shy of two months later than planned.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">The United States Ambassador to New Zealand, David Huebner, posted about our work on <a href="http://blogs.newzealand.usembassy.gov/ambassador/2011/04/the-2011-future-partners-complete-their-work/">his blog</a>, and he also has the video, if you are interested. I am very proud of what we accomplished. Essentially, we said two things: 1) we do not want to be seen as future partners because inter-generational problems require inter-generational leadership, and we are ready to be full partners today; and 2) In order to have a sustainable future, we must redefine success.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Together, a group of 20 Kiwis and Americans defined success first as not <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">only</i> economic. Instead, we define success to be a world where there are more voices at the table, where our bottom lines include society and the environment, and where we think long-term instead of on the election-cycle mentality. I am really proud of what we accomplished, and I am excited for the path forward.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">But something has been bothering me since Christchurch, and it happened again in Wellington. While we talked a lot about listening, many of us, including (or especially) me, cut off people who were talking. We pushed away ideas, especially those that we deemed too rooted in the status quo. I found myself one of the more conservative voices in the room. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">It was moment after moment of realizing that I was doing something I did not like but not having the courage or the aptitude to stop. All the yoga and talk about mindfulness did not seem to help. Was it a fear of not being heard? Was it a belief that my ideas were better than others? Was it a need to have a voice? I am not sure. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I consider people in this group some of my best friends here in New Zealand. Perhaps that is because they are some of my only friends. We went through something traumatic, and we came out the other side closer and with a great vision for the future. But it may not have been a complete vision. After all, not everyone was able to speak sufficiently. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">So why do I share this? It actually exemplifies something that is happening in my thesis research as well. I came here believing that lawyers for children could save the system. Ok, perhaps that is a bit strong, but I believed that they were a big piece of the puzzle. During my six weeks in Wellington, I discovered that 6 years into the new setup here in New Zealand, a lot of the lawyers for children are jaded, and they think their role is ill-defined and not always useful. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">In other words, it is a work in progress. I knew that coming here, but I did not know how it would play out. As “Future Partners,” we were asked to envision that work in progress, to tell a group of politicians and business people (CEOs of major corporations) what we think we need to do differently. While our visions and ideals were impressive, and I believe admirable, living up to them was a bit more difficult at times.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">In other words, it is a work in progress. ;) We joked that the Forum had asked us to solve the world’s problems in a couple of days and present it in 15 minutes (they gave us an extra 5 – the original presentation was planned for only 10). Of course we did not do that. What we did, however, was try our hands at a new ideal. In a lot of ways, we did a great, great job. In a lot of ways, we did not live up to our ideal vision.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">As I mentioned, during orientation, we were asked to “<a href="http://kiaorafromtomorrow.blogspot.com/2011/02/little-things.html">embrace the differences</a>” when we got here, to see how New Zealand and the United States are different. After this encounter I am more convinced than ever that we are all much, much more similar than we are different. But that is not the end. Our similarities do not mean we necessarily play well together all the time. I think our bigger task, and one that would make Senator Fulbright proud, is to continually challenge ourselves to embrace our fears and move forward together, even if it is a bumpy and sometimes messy road.<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #535353; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: xx-small; line-height: 19px; white-space: pre-wrap;">© 2011 Rebecca Stahl, all rights reserved</span></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05321991410940383270noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7810101995700108921.post-48125875001058156302011-04-08T14:47:00.000-07:002011-04-08T14:47:40.999-07:00In case you thought life here was perfect<!--StartFragment--> <br />
<div class="MsoNormal">So many of my posts (well, the earthquake posts excluded) have been about how awesome and amazing New Zealand is. And it is! But I do not want anyone to get the wrong impression of this place. There is a monster lurking underneath it all, and it is that monster I wish to share with you today (followed by more awesomeness).</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">The kiwis are a wonderful bunch of people, in case I have not made that abundantly clear. But being awesome all the time must get tiresome, and like those little squish toys, the tension must come out somewhere. Have no fear – it does! Where you ask?</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">The driving! </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I have personally driven in some of the craziest cities in the states – Chicago, Los Angeles, and Phoenix full of snowbirds. I have driven <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">into</i> Paris and found where to return a rental car (I still consider that one of my shining moments in life). I have been a pedestrian in places as frightening as Rome where I do not believe there actually are rules on the road. I knew that New Zealand has a pretty massive drink driving problem, and I read a lot about the numerous car crashes, but I thought I would be safe as a pedestrian. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Oh how wrong I was. Yes, I have learned to “<a href="http://isyogalegal.blogspot.com/2011/01/looking-right.html">look right</a>” before crossing the street. I have learned to walk on the left side of the sidewalk. In short, this is not a “wrong side of the street” issue.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No, it is simply scary to be a pedestrian here. Pedestrians do not have the right-of-way. Now, I lived in Ann Arbor, Michigan for four years, and the rule there is, “if there is any possible way for a car to stop for a pedestrian, even with ice on the ground and the pedestrian jaywalking, that car will stop.” </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Here, however, cars do not stop. They honk at you as they come within centimeters of your little toes that you would really like to keep attached. They help with balance. And I do not mean just for jaywalking. I can handle that. No, crossing at a T-intersection where the sidewalk (“footpath”) ends, and you just need to cross a street to keep going straight – that’s where they get you. They come out of nowhere, from behind, and honk at you as they go whizzing by, barely slowing down. When you get scared and make a funny face (other people do that, right?) taxi drivers yell and say, “do you have a problem?” </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Yes, I’m scared here to walk. But I will persevere. I will learn their ways, and I will make do. The funny thing is that if there is a crosswalk, and someone is waiting to cross, they will slam on their brakes risking the lives of all their passengers, or at least a good case of whiplash, to ensure that the person who has not yet entered the road may safely cross. To each his own, I guess. Remember, we are supposed to <a href="http://kiaorafromtomorrow.blogspot.com/2011/02/little-things.html">embrace the quirks</a>.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">But seriously, aside from learning that the road is a dangerous place in New Zealand, I have found one more thing I love – the birds. I have never had an affinity for birds, which is a bit odd considering my affinity for trees; in fact, I tend not to like birds. But I have noticed their voices singing recently. When I walk down the busiest street in the capital city and hear the birds call out, a little bit of joy enters my heart. New Zealand is famous for its birds, especially the flightless ones, but I have yet to see a kiwi (the bird), but there are birds everywhere, and they sing their songs in the morning, through the garden, and even on the busiest streets. They are a constant reminder that we are connected to nature, that it exists with us, and that we can remember to sing in the mornings and throughout the day along with the birds. It might just bring some joy into our lives.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Of course, paying too much attention to the birds here could also make you lose your toes, so be sure to sing carefully!</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">In other news, I have started another blog, this one dedicated to new ways of thinking in family law. If you work in the field of family law, in any capacity, or if you know someone who does, please share the following link with them: "<a href="http://www.famlawshiftingparadigm.blogspot.com/">Family Law - Shifting the Paradigm</a>," at www.famlawshiftingparadigm.blogspot.com. Thanks! </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: xx-small; line-height: 19px; white-space: pre-wrap;">© 2011 Rebecca Stahl, all rights reserved</span></div><!--EndFragment-->Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05321991410940383270noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7810101995700108921.post-67092180804547853362011-04-02T01:24:00.000-07:002011-04-02T01:24:52.067-07:00Sharing the Country<!--StartFragment--> <br />
<div class="MsoNormal">I just spent a lovely week with my dad and step-mom here in New Zealand. Though they are down under for 5 weeks, we were only able to squeeze in one week together. I am, after all, supposed to be working (more on that failure later). Overall, we had a lovely, lovely time!</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">First, I want to say that my parents must be the weather gods. The weather was basically perfect while they were here. When they arrived in Wellington, it was cold and windy, but we had a nice lunch, wandered along the main part of the city, and then ambled back to their hotel and had dinner nearby. Then the clouds cleared, the sun shone, and the wind even almost disappeared. That is unheard of in Windy Welly. So what did we do?</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">We explored! First, we went to the top of Mt. Victoria, which overlooks the entire city. It was not even cold up there!</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkjEYVbfcZEdtl1ItTmVQVa7lIEVQ5g6uDJwxr8MIUhxP7damxZIesceZsssf1NdpT4nSRqX9qK6cLoulTTST2d-6dSjIZNIRqQQw9gr5-13dF3AIhZwPpTSwCgIhn2lpOxfJJjrML7Q/s1600/P1010414.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkjEYVbfcZEdtl1ItTmVQVa7lIEVQ5g6uDJwxr8MIUhxP7damxZIesceZsssf1NdpT4nSRqX9qK6cLoulTTST2d-6dSjIZNIRqQQw9gr5-13dF3AIhZwPpTSwCgIhn2lpOxfJJjrML7Q/s320/P1010414.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">The weather gods and the beautiful view of Wellington from Mt. Vic!</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Then we took the cable car up to the top of the Botanic Gardens. If you have been following this blog, you know that I walk through the Botanic Gardens on my way to school each day, so for me, the cable car has been used for commuting sometimes. In other words, am I a <a href="http://kiaorafromtomorrow.blogspot.com/2011/03/day-in-life.html">tourist or a resident</a>? But the gardens did not disappoint, and we slowly made our way back to the city center and to the famous Backbencher Pub with caricatures of political figures on the wall. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwKZdGTgRBsTM7rvrQyqkKAutIrEyuuAC5ZTGEfNnTqtN0IVQehL4PZEbsxjm5iOyKcs4CZPwmXkGoG8YbOqvkN9CVwwjh04qr2q8KgGq-Uw_99BjYgVEA3AoTHJoSiXQmhfQ1Hh6llg/s1600/P1010443.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwKZdGTgRBsTM7rvrQyqkKAutIrEyuuAC5ZTGEfNnTqtN0IVQehL4PZEbsxjm5iOyKcs4CZPwmXkGoG8YbOqvkN9CVwwjh04qr2q8KgGq-Uw_99BjYgVEA3AoTHJoSiXQmhfQ1Hh6llg/s320/P1010443.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Then it was back to their hotel to get ready for my dad’s evening presentation on the psychological effects of relocation cases. Laugh if you like, but it was a great presentation, and I met some wonderful people, including a judge with whom I spent about 6 hours on Friday. She let me sit next to her on the bench – that was weird, but awesome, and I learned a ton, just by watching.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Ok, back to vacation! The next morning, I had a breakfast meeting with the Chair of the Family Law Section of the New Zealand Law Society. He was in Wellington from Auckland for a meeting, and he made time to see me. Have I mentioned that people here are absolutely amazing? When he pulled out a notepad and pen to take notes on what I was saying, my entire perspective changed on what I can do here in New Zealand. Apparently, I have something to offer them in addition to all the amazing things I can learn from them. It was a pretty exciting moment. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Then I literally ran to the hotel to meet Ruth, my step-mom, so we could head out to the Kapiti coast to meet up with her friends from back when she lived in Baltimore. My dad was doing another presentation, this one all-day, so Ruth and I were on our own, and we headed to the beach. The Kapiti Coast is known for three things – chocolate, ice cream, and cheese. Let me tell you, it is with good reason. All three were amazing (only one bite of ice cream – I was STUFFED). The friends live in an awesome ecological pre-fab house ten minutes from the beach, and one of them took us down to the beach, where we did some yoga, and then we had an amazing lunch full of veggies from the garden.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhyphenhyphenDT5t7DBA7e36P359INRaJyGT-8lNlZK2x_7MPvzzD7ZYbdEn7Qf565g54dv2wDLuMs53Vw3aXzCAilqkRDYOuv68ylYQGyuLMESr9lEUlF9_lrBiavKsYcQCYnUWdnT8F7ZeF4aNA/s1600/P1010455.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhyphenhyphenDT5t7DBA7e36P359INRaJyGT-8lNlZK2x_7MPvzzD7ZYbdEn7Qf565g54dv2wDLuMs53Vw3aXzCAilqkRDYOuv68ylYQGyuLMESr9lEUlF9_lrBiavKsYcQCYnUWdnT8F7ZeF4aNA/s320/P1010455.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">Yay tree pose with two people!!</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">The next day, the weather turned overcast, but no worries – we were headed for museums and Parliament. We started the morning with the Parliament tour, which was strangely different than the one I took during orientation, and then we went and saw two more museums. Okay, they saw two, but I had already exhausted one, so I managed to get some work done for a few minutes before meeting them in Te Papa, the National Museum. I finally took the time to wander around, and it was great. The rain set in just as we walked into the restaurant for dinner, but have no fear, it stopped just before we finished eating, so we were able to walk back to the hotel, and I went home. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">The next day, we headed to Dunedin and had a lovely dinner with the <a href="http://www.lynleyhood.org/">amazing woman</a> who has been hosting me down there. I will not write too much about her for privacy reasons, but the link is to her webpage, and suffice it to say, I have never felt so welcome by anyone in my entire life. I feel supremely blessed. The next day I actually attended a class in the morning called “Managing your Thesis” and learned all sorts of things about what it means to write a thesis. Yikes. My parents came into town and we met my future flatmate for lunch before heading to the law school where we ran into my professor. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Then we went on a wildlife tour. Since arriving in New Zealand, I have wanted to go on one of these tours. Dunedin is famous for the royal albatross, fur seals, sea lions, and penguins. It is home to one of the rarest penguins in the world – the yellow-eyed penguin. While we often think of penguins as ice birds, most species actually live in forests, though they spend their days out at sea. We got to see penguins up close, coming in from the water and a little blue penguin in his hole. We also saw a huge colony of fur seals and a bunch of sea lions on the beach. It was amazing.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhydD5g2OVXB6xUb7jIIZ-WY2pzrYLfMgm5xeSRxfTRaODctDgobe-NeBXgwzB2EOtcH5BGxcFrRlnCn-9QHkYcEMX0eiWeLykZOpsn6NCQ8xQ6ZjlLXjwDwc4cLaPsQ9lbP-fHfNZFjw/s1600/P1010600.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhydD5g2OVXB6xUb7jIIZ-WY2pzrYLfMgm5xeSRxfTRaODctDgobe-NeBXgwzB2EOtcH5BGxcFrRlnCn-9QHkYcEMX0eiWeLykZOpsn6NCQ8xQ6ZjlLXjwDwc4cLaPsQ9lbP-fHfNZFjw/s320/P1010600.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">The cutest fur seal was looking up at us. It was so adorable.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQe2ax7DIyuFoEZKag22z1BkTFKEqYLjcSM2Kxmpe30EQoh463RxzNNq4DJUjOZI4iNLDk7h_RK9FPAOm7yDANA24o5BXsfIshqkRa_8gNoGf7dazCMOqcDm_6dmc7Z8tKmVeIgKzG8w/s1600/P1010632.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQe2ax7DIyuFoEZKag22z1BkTFKEqYLjcSM2Kxmpe30EQoh463RxzNNq4DJUjOZI4iNLDk7h_RK9FPAOm7yDANA24o5BXsfIshqkRa_8gNoGf7dazCMOqcDm_6dmc7Z8tKmVeIgKzG8w/s320/P1010632.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">So cute!!</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">The next day, they wanted to relax at their beach resort, so I went to school, but we met up in time for a little museum action in the afternoon, and then Fulbright had its Welcome Reception for those of us in Dunedin. They planned it for that date knowing I would be in town. Have I mentioned how blessed I am by people in New Zealand? It was great to see some new friends and meet some new people. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">The next day we did the other thing I have wanted to do since arriving in Dunedin – the Taieri Gorge Railway. It is a 4-hour rail trip into a gorge, and the weather was perfect, so I spent much of the outbound trip on the back of the train. On the way back our view was a bit blocked, but it was still a great way to spend the morning. Then I went to school while they went to the hotel, and we met up for one last amazing dinner in town.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Sadly, the next morning I walked to their hotel with my bag (they would have picked me up, but I wanted a walk, and the bag was light, and who knew I had been living that close to the beach where there hotel was?), and we drove to the airport. That is where our great adventure ends. I got on a plane, and they headed to Queenstown (where apparently my dad went hang gliding, but I will believe it when I see photos!). </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Overall, it was an amazing week, and as blessed as I have been with people here in New Zealand, I feel incredibly lucky to be able to say that I spent a week with my parents and loved it and was sad to have to say goodbye. I guess now I have to get back to work, but that has been hard to do. I know it will come soon.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I am now back in Wellington for about another 1.5 weeks before I head back to Dunedin for the rest of my stay here in New Zealand (except the short trips elsewhere in the country). <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But I just have to say – it was a great week and great to share the sites with my parents! They even put up with my being a tour guide. ;)</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #ffeedd; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;"><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: #ffeedd; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Cambria;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: xx-small; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;">© 2011 Rebecca Stahl, all rights reserved</span></span></span></span></div></span><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: xx-small; line-height: 19px; white-space: pre-wrap;">This blog is not affiliated with Fulbright or Fulbright New Zealand, and all opinions expressed herein are my own.</span> </div><!--EndFragment-->Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05321991410940383270noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7810101995700108921.post-44643155754556718002011-03-19T02:22:00.000-07:002011-03-19T02:22:45.348-07:00A day in the life . . .<!--StartFragment--> <br />
<div class="MsoNormal">I have been wondering what to say next – the initial <a href="http://kiaorafromtomorrow.blogspot.com/2011/02/what-trip.html">trips</a> and <a href="http://kiaorafromtomorrow.blogspot.com/2011/02/goodwill-to-all.html">orientation</a> are over, the <a href="http://isyogalegal.blogspot.com/2011/02/when-stability-is-lost.html">craziness</a> of <a href="http://kiaorafromtomorrow.blogspot.com/2011/02/from-tears-to-aroha.html">disaster</a> is getting hard to discuss, and I am “settling” into life here in Wellington, at least until my dad and stepmom arrive on Wednesday!! But there are little things I want to share, and I think that my day yesterday, with a bit of additional thoughts, might be the perfect way to tie it all together.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">My <a href="http://kiaorafromtomorrow.blogspot.com/2011/02/little-things.html">last post</a> before the <a href="http://kiaorafromtomorrow.blogspot.com/2011/02/as-luck-would-have-it.html">earthquake</a> was about the little quirks here in NZ, about what it means to have culture shock in a place that is so much like home. I promised more . . . so here goes. My housing situation here in Wellington is with a professor and her 8-year-old daughter. On Fridays, the girl has a spelling test, and her mom tests her in the morning. Yesterday the child asked me if I would like to help. I have helped with piano and even some yoga postures, so spelling should have been a piece of cake, but the theme was “ou,” and as I looked at the list of honour, labour, etc., I felt my confidence dwindle. Needless to say, I declined to help, informing her that we spell things differently in the States. On that note, one of the weirdest emails I have written since arriving was asking my thesis advisor how to spell – not a question you expect to be asking in year 20 of education.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Leaving the house, I walked to school. My walk takes me right through the botanic gardens. I have tried different routes to get home nearly every day. I find it a good way to learn my way around. The best part, though, is that if I get “lost” I can always find my way home by finding the Botanic Garden. I keep saying, “how bad can life be when getting lost means you end up wandering through the beautiful gardens that surround this city?” My walk to school in the mornings takes me to one of the most glorious lookouts over the city. And I have learned that by adding about 1 minute (maybe less) to my “commute,” I can walk through the edge of the gardens instead of along the road that runs next to them. Today (Saturday), I discovered that by adding about 10 minutes, I can walk through the heart of the gardens. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4QAmKwD7ORZEwtIT77sY4r0X8cmRiuTa0R8F7ye0hx-zQqpqtQgfCzR3fqcjDCTTZJuFatVH16fvQx8sV7fofZ6cjmULGB5xbOtBFamlG3pQxdAHkdNlPRTKIwkZyOjgy54bAt4Y-2g/s1600/P1000261.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4QAmKwD7ORZEwtIT77sY4r0X8cmRiuTa0R8F7ye0hx-zQqpqtQgfCzR3fqcjDCTTZJuFatVH16fvQx8sV7fofZ6cjmULGB5xbOtBFamlG3pQxdAHkdNlPRTKIwkZyOjgy54bAt4Y-2g/s320/P1000261.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal">Am I a tourist, or do I live here? </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">As I leave the gardens on my way to school, I arrive at the corner of a busy street, and like everyone else, find the easiest and quickest way to ignore traffic signs and jaywalk <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>to the Old Government Buildings (and if you knew me in Tucson, you know this is not a good idea for me). The law school is housed within the Old Government Buildings, which is the largest wooden building in the southern hemisphere (also one of the safest in an earthquake!). I even took a tour of the building today, then promptly went upstairs after it, past the signs that say, “No Public Access” and used my swipe card to enter my office. From that office, I look out over “The Beehive,” aka Parliament. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0NrvSW-AKpyW-HGE3FwfivV9XKYa8GS_bUCaSudhI5akpMZ_33NKycPD0ds-LyRSDWNh6rAf9X4pYGZTIDMvPomN-Q-4bwwGEpwBdbsdw8o3tu8jVS9x5WHHsCLtkVILyxM0a28Pf5Q/s1600/P1010347.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0NrvSW-AKpyW-HGE3FwfivV9XKYa8GS_bUCaSudhI5akpMZ_33NKycPD0ds-LyRSDWNh6rAf9X4pYGZTIDMvPomN-Q-4bwwGEpwBdbsdw8o3tu8jVS9x5WHHsCLtkVILyxM0a28Pf5Q/s320/P1010347.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">The flag is at half mast for Christchurch.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Tourist? Resident?</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Wellington is a small city, and I probably know 10 people here, maybe 20. One of the people I met in Christchurch who was part of the Future Partners Forum with me just informed me that she is starting her job at the law school on Monday – her office is next door to mine. Wellington is a small city. New Zealand is a small country. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">And when I leave my office at the end of the day, I walk amongst the backpack runners. I think this is a Wellington phenomenon, but there are hundreds of people who run to/from work with backpacks. I can only assume that inside the backpack are their work clothes. New Zealand is a laid-back country. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">And where do we walk? We walk UP. I grew up near San Francisco, so I know about hills. The two times I lived in France, I lived up hills. But nothing, and I mean nothing, has prepared me for New Zealand. While much of Wellington is below sea level, and many of the buildings and the airport are built on reclaimed land or land that magically appeared after a major earthquake in the mid 1850s, you walk up a lot. Panting and wheezing, I get back to the house, back to a place I’m not sure whether to call home. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">So, from spelling to gardens to the heritage buildings of the city, my day gets confused between tourist and resident. On my way to school today (working on a Saturday because my parents are coming, and I will be not working as much this week), I took some time to read the tourist signposts along the way, trying to appreciate the fact that I am in an amazing place, with wonderful history and heritage.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I took a short walk this evening to see the full moon. I walked to the top of the gardens, to that lookout point I pass each morning and saw it with fresh eyes, in the night sky, lit up by the glorious moon. As I looked up, I saw the Southern Cross constellation – probably the best reminder that I am in a new landscape. After all, it is not visible from the northern hemisphere. But then just behind it was Orion, probably the only other constellation I can recognize. I felt one emotion – calm. After all the tumult, all the craziness of these months and certainly these last few weeks, that moon (that so many have predicted will bring more disaster) brought me to a sense of peace and calm as never before. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">My cousin just posted a beautiful quote on facebook, “The real voyage of discovery consists not in seeking new landscape but in having new eyes.” – Marcel Proust. As I continue to live in this new world, I’m trying to see it through new eyes each and every day, to see its beauty, its quirks, and its similarities to home. I am still not sure whether I am a tourist or a resident, but hopefully I can keep my eyes open to the beauty of where I am. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Namaste!</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #ffeedd; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;"></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: #ffeedd; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Cambria;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: xx-small; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;">© 2011 Rebecca Stahl, all rights reserved</span></span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: #ffeedd; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: xx-small; line-height: 19px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;">This blog is not affiliated with Fulbright or Fulbright New Zealand, and all opinions expressed herein are my own.</span></span></div><br />
<!--EndFragment-->Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05321991410940383270noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7810101995700108921.post-53043828792799020312011-03-06T00:31:00.000-08:002011-03-06T00:31:45.532-08:00Being a Citizen Ambassador<!--StartFragment--> <br />
<div class="MsoNormal">Quick update on life before the main post: I have left Dunedin, and I am now in Wellington for the next 6-8 weeks. I am here to study with a different professor before he heads overseas and also to meet with judges and lawyers here in the capital. I arrived just in time for one of Wellington’s well-known earthquakes, and it freaked me out a bit, but they happen all the time here (in fact, there was another one the other night), so it should become normal to me again soon. I must also say that I am so, so, so grateful to all of you for your love and support during and after the earthquake in ChCh. I am still struggling with my reaction to it, but it gets easier and easier every day. This post is not officially about that, but of course its message is exactly on par. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">One of the “requirements” of getting a Fulbright Scholarship is to be a citizen ambassador. Senator Fulbright believed (I think rightly so) that the two best ways to create a smaller world and more understanding is through education and interaction. Thus, the Fulbright scholarship funds educational opportunities. It also, however, asks us to be citizen ambassadors. Basically, we are asked to represent the United States in whatever country we find ourselves. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I actually take this very seriously. I have lived and traveled abroad at some very precarious times, including when we started the war in Iraq and when we reelected President Bush in 2004. Of course, with the earthquake in Christchurch, perhaps I should stop traveling, but actually that has created an amazing opportunity of togetherness and connection, which is at the heart of the Fulbright. While a disaster, it has led to some deep connections (click <a href="http://isyogalegal.blogspot.com/2011/02/creating-stability.html">here</a> for my post about that on Is Yoga Legal).</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Anyway, the Fulbright application is actually fairly basic – you need a research proposal, a personal statement, and three letters of recommendation. It helps if you have an affiliation in your host university as well. Specifically, in the personal statement, “Grantees are encouraged to get involved in cultural and/or community activities.” In my personal statement, I mentioned that when I lived in France, I joined a Brazilian percussion group and I hoped to do something similar to that or engage with the yoga community here in New Zealand during my time abroad. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Well, as you all can probably tell, these past few months have been sort of hectic. I got here, traveled, enrolled, traveled, got in an earthquake, and moved to Wellington – all in about 6 weeks time. I have attended one, yes one, yoga class since arriving. For someone who used to attend 3-5 per week, that is like losing a limb. But I was bound and determined to find a yoga community while in Wellington. It turns out that I found the Hare Krishna yoga community. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Sunday night is apparently a special night in the Hare Krishna community. In Tucson, I would often go to Govinda’s for their $3 dinners (thanks Anna and Jamie for starting that tradition!), and it was preceded by a service. I actually never attended the service, though to be honest, I am not sure why. Tonight, however, I attended a Krishna Fest – my first one. Of course, this involved a lot of singing and some dancing, and a talk, and a beautiful feast. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">As I was chanting and swaying to the music, I wondered what Senator Fulbright would think of this. I had to smile. I actually think he would love it. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Being a citizen ambassador can mean a lot of things. It can mean attending Partnership Forums where political and business leaders get together to discuss the future of the partnership between two countries (the reason we were all in Christchurch), or it can mean teaching about your home community at a school or community event. It can also mean joining a community and being yourself. It means branching out in new ways, finding a new group of friends, and engaging with people in ways you may not if you were in your safe world back home.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Tonight I went to this event alone. That is a big step for me. But I chatted with people (few of whom were actually kiwis), and I had a lovely time. I may not become a Hare Krishna tomorrow, but I am going back to their yoga class tomorrow night. To me, the most important part of being a citizen ambassador is getting outside my comfort zone and seeing what life is like anywhere and everywhere. Of course, I have tended to find it is pretty similar everywhere. Sometimes, we just need to be jolted, literally, as the earthquake did, or metaphorically as moving to a foreign country does. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">As it says on the Fulbright NZ <a href="http://www.fulbright.org.nz/about/history.html">website</a>, “In Senator Fulbright's words, ‘the programme aims ... to bring a little more knowledge, a little more reason, and a little more compassion into world affairs and thereby to increase the chance that nations will learn at last to live in peace and friendship.’” He may not have been thinking of his future recipients chanting and dancing, but I think the compassion, peace, and friendship aspect of the Hare Krishna evening is exactly what Senator Fulbright would have wanted.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">As I said, this idea of being a citizen ambassador means a lot to me; in fact, I think it is far more important than what I will learn while writing my thesis (though of course that is also very, very important). I hope to be able to live up to Senator Fulbright’s vision of community and friendship one chant and yoga class at a time. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Namaste and Blessings!</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: #ffeedd; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Cambria;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: xx-small; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;">© 2011 Rebecca Stahl, all rights reserved</span></span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: #ffeedd; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: xx-small; line-height: 19px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;">This blog is not affiliated with Fulbright or Fulbright New Zealand, and all opinions expressed herein are my own.</span></span></div><br />
<!--EndFragment-->Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05321991410940383270noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7810101995700108921.post-4336921643062899302011-02-24T23:40:00.000-08:002011-02-24T23:40:12.998-08:00From Tears to Aroha<!--StartFragment--> <br />
<div class="MsoNormal">These have been a stressful couple of days, and as I have emerged from the initial instinctual reactions to this unsteadiness (literal and figurative), the intensity of what happened in Christchurch really hit home. There were moments when I could not see anything about it without tearing up. It has become obvious that I was in one of the safest buildings in the entire city, and I was far enough outside the city center (2.5 km from the cathedral), that I did not see the horrible wreckage and people everywhere. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">But then with each news item, I get hit with the devastation again. I realize what befell that beautiful city and its wonderful citizens. I ask, “why me?” with the deep knowledge that the universe works in interesting and unique ways and that I got out unscathed to do something else with my life on this planet. My gratitude grows. Yesterday was nearly useless for me, but this morning, I decided to sit for a few minutes and deal with it. I dealt with it the only way I know how – metta.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Metta is a Sanskrit word meaning loving-kindness. Metta meditation is a type of meditation where you offer loving-kindness to yourself and others. It is much more than that as well, but for purposes of this post (especially on the non-yoga blog), that will suffice. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Short of giving money (which I have done) and food (which I will do), there is not much for me to do to help the people of Christchurch. Crisis cleanup is just not my specialty, not to mention that I have but nine months to write a 150-page thesis that I have barely begun. But we can all offer our metta to the world. I can sit and wonder why I got out so easily, but that does no one any good. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">During orientation, we learned a little Maori. It is, after all, one of the two national languages in New Zealand. The one word that stuck with me was “aroha.” Yes, it looks almost the same as aloha and has the same roots. It has a more “limited” definition than aloha, and we were told that it really means love. As I tought about metta, I turned to aroha, the Maori concept of what I have studied in Buddhist and yoga practices. I thought it was a perfect transition.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Then I looked up the meaning and realized it is far more perfect than I could have imagined. It may be an online dictionary, but this is the definition I found: as a verb, “to love, feel pity, feel concern for, feel compassion, empathise,” and as a noun, “affection, sympathy, charity, compassion, love, empathy.” It encompasses exactly what I feel for the people of Christchurch, exactly what I feel for those who survived but saw others who did not. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Below are two photos of what I saw after the quake and a photo of the building I was in when it struck. While it is obvious there is damage, you will notice that it is <i>nothing</i> compared to the utter destruction of the Central Business District (CBD). I have learned so much from the kiwis in the past month (Monday was a month after I arrived). Perhaps the greatest lesson has been the one of aroha – love coupled with all its meanings, including charity, compassion, and empathy. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBB2VMzidLPIsDrwVTuXtzhW3_3RBfGLcOP6DA-2sjH6U4MnmkN9_0g4N8fxcjgs5wa8iUThTAASVPxxdG1CdKSgO0VAzxgJePEi6ngI0DehbYpBSW7ofFdBpH-HwjBhvGGr1AagzaHg/s1600/P1010277.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBB2VMzidLPIsDrwVTuXtzhW3_3RBfGLcOP6DA-2sjH6U4MnmkN9_0g4N8fxcjgs5wa8iUThTAASVPxxdG1CdKSgO0VAzxgJePEi6ngI0DehbYpBSW7ofFdBpH-HwjBhvGGr1AagzaHg/s320/P1010277.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">The flooded street. I think I heard the word liquefaction 500 times that day, and I had never heard it before.</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaAgO55xGL9HSCfuzE8pECWuM2FsOKVJ1WkZorA__RPP1-tlSV-tbL3Ce1IZw7OCYL30pc_s2TDThJF4EP_DEULW-G73yd4IZfZg5aBE2UJBdxV57GYqNpaCXWajRI0eNDqeUqSklk-Q/s1600/P1010275.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaAgO55xGL9HSCfuzE8pECWuM2FsOKVJ1WkZorA__RPP1-tlSV-tbL3Ce1IZw7OCYL30pc_s2TDThJF4EP_DEULW-G73yd4IZfZg5aBE2UJBdxV57GYqNpaCXWajRI0eNDqeUqSklk-Q/s320/P1010275.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">But one photo of the cracks in the sidewalk, but they were not too bad near us.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvAd_e-rPzbEyX8hyq-t7ggEfaSWQSvDA11H_Grnqcw5VaiXgqXjGTquMJjQ27s5ZAkv0f06qIy3BBj6J_hjiTVo8FOy4TG8f5vLvPkMnXkZlGK6b6ACRVH5dyWEn8Koim4c2OT79VTg/s1600/P1010270.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvAd_e-rPzbEyX8hyq-t7ggEfaSWQSvDA11H_Grnqcw5VaiXgqXjGTquMJjQ27s5ZAkv0f06qIy3BBj6J_hjiTVo8FOy4TG8f5vLvPkMnXkZlGK6b6ACRVH5dyWEn8Koim4c2OT79VTg/s320/P1010270.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">The AMI Rugby stadium, where the Forum/conference was being held. We were on the 5th floor. My backpack and bag are still there. It is sort of surreal to think of all that stuff just sitting there - the spilled water and our bags - simple reminders of what transpired.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">There is no doubt the tears will continue. In fact, they flowed most freely this evening at a Dunedin community gathering (a vigil, in the United States) in which a group of people gathered to support Christchurch. As I write this, a helicopter is flying overhead, and my first thought is that it is from Christchurch – Dunedin is the closest big city to Christchurch, about a 3-hour car trip. But more than the tears and the constant feeling that the Earth is going to shatter below me, I feel aroha, for the people in Christchurch, but also for all people – a constant reminder that we must hold that notion at all times.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">It is unusual for me to share so openly, but after this tragedy, it only seems natural. So, from tears, to aroha, to hopefully finding a better way of living in the world. As I said in my <a href="http://isyogalegal.blogspot.com/2011/02/when-stability-is-lost.html">Is Yoga Legal post</a>, “As we got off the plane, I told a high-ranking US politician that if we are to survive, we have to act, at all times, as we acted that day. The best part was that he agreed. For a brief moment, idealism, from my yoga background and my generational attitude, was able to come through.”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Hopefully, I can now move forward and start getting some work done again. After all, I am here for a purpose, and that purpose must be fulfilled, now more than ever.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Namaste and Blessings!</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #ffeedd; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;"></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Cambria;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: xx-small; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;">© 2011 Rebecca Stahl, all rights reserved</span></span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: xx-small; line-height: 19px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;">This blog is not affiliated with Fulbright or Fulbright New Zealand, and all opinions expressed herein are my own.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"> </span></div><br />
<!--EndFragment-->Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05321991410940383270noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7810101995700108921.post-6934093878825585662011-02-22T15:36:00.000-08:002011-02-22T15:36:28.254-08:00As "Luck" Would Have It<!--StartFragment--> <br />
<div class="MsoNormal">This post could also be called “The Morning After . . . on 4.5 hours of sleep.” In other words, please bear with me and my probable typos and grammatical mistakes.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">As you all probably know by now, Christchurch New Zealand was struck by a Magnitude 6.3 earthquake a few minutes before 1pm on Tuesday (New Zealand time, which would make it about 7pm Wednesday, Eastern Time in the United States). Instead of being in Dunedin or Wellington where I will be studying for the next 9 months, I was in Christchurch. I was part of a Forum called the Future Partners Forum, which was part of a larger <a href="http://www.usnzcouncil.org/partnerforum/upcomingforum">US-NZ Partnership Forum</a>. There are press releases to both forums, but suffice it to say that business and political leaders from both countries were attending to discuss the US-NZ partnership, and we were asked to discuss its future. It was quite an honor, but not the point of this post.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">The Future Partners consisted of 9 United States Fulbright Fellows and 11 New Zealanders. We all had vastly different backgrounds, and the Americans and kiwis met for the first time on Sunday evening. That is important to this story. To keep this somewhat short, I am using bullet points and focusing on “as luck would have it.” At the end, you will know why.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">As luck would have it . . .</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="margin-left: 39.0pt; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;"><span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;">·<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span>We were an over-anxious and productive group. We had a “brown-bag” lunch. Instead of being in the center of town, and all spread amongst different restaurants, where the vast majority of the Forum was, we were all together working through our lunch break when we could have been socializing, etc. In other words, we were together as a community. Readers of my other blog will know the importance of community to me, and if you are curious, <a href="http://isyogalegal.blogspot.com/search/label/Community">here</a> is a link to 12 blog posts on it. </div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 39.0pt; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;"><span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;">·<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span>We were in a particular room of the rugby stadium. As the floor started to shake, the building did <i>exactly</i> what it was supposed to do. It shook violently, and water glasses fell, a little of the soft ceiling fell (so someone told me, but I did not see it), and the windows and walls stayed intact. My CA training kicked in, and I protected my head before my computer, which got a little water damage and saved immediately after the shaking ended, but my head came first. </div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 39.0pt; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;"><span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;">·<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span>We were in New Zealand. I am from CA, but little did I know how unusual the phrase “Duck and Cover” is to the vast majority of Americans. The kiwis made sure we were all under tables. They felt they had an obligation to protect us in their most common natural disaster that makes CA look calm by comparison. Not only did our kiwi counterparts scream to get under tables, but I heard that other Americans were dragged under tables by the kiwis they were with.</div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 39.0pt; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;"><span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;">·<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span>We were in New Zealand. Within seconds, and I mean seconds, crew from the stadium were in the room, on radios, evacuating us from the room and the building.</div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 39.0pt; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;"><span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;">·<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span>I have a blackberry. Ok, this is purely personal, but as we were walking from the 5<sup>th</sup> floor to the outside, I emailed my four parents to tell them I was safe. This was before the phone lines got clogged, and I could still get through. They heard that I was safe before they heard there was an earthquake. </div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 39.0pt; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;"><span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;">·<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span>We were in New Zealand (are you seeing a theme here?). The entire staff was outside with us, comforting us, taking care of us. They all live in Christchurch, and they were concerned about their family and friends and their homes, but they stuck with us until a bus arrived.</div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 39.0pt; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;"><span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;">·<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span>There was a home across the way. Let’s just say that within minutes several of us had to use the facilities. We walked across the street and were welcomed into what can only be described as a college house of boys. Clean or not, they had a toilet, and they let many of us use it. (Later, as we left the area, they had set up a card game outside – not for us, but they were doing it, probably because they were bored, and there was little power in the city.) They were really, really kind to let us use their home.</div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 39.0pt; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;"><span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;">·<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span>We are Americans (and our kiwi friends were not leaving us). The embassy acted fast! Some of the Partnership Forum was also in the stadium and found us about an hour after the earthquake. The rest of the people started to migrate back. Before 5pm (now that I think about it, that was about 4 hours after the earthquake when roads were nearly at a standstill and the city was in shock), a bus was there for all of us ready to take us to the Antarctic Center. We were all accounted for, and reaccounted for, before we got on that bus. We made sure our kiwi friends got on with us. This was the Partnership Forum, after all, and we are partners . . . and now friends. The embassy took them with us!</div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 39.0pt; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;"><span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;">·<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span>We were with some VIPs, and the military cares about us. We were at the Antarctic Center less than an hour when it was decided that we would be evacuated by NZ Air Force jets to Wellington. They made sure that we future partners signed up for our boarding passes first and foremost. We were getting out! But more importantly, being with these people made us all feel safe. Without going into specifics, people trained in disaster preparedness, who have helped with some of the largest most recent natural disasters in the world, were there, and they were working together to make sure we were all cared for properly. </div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 39.0pt; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;"><span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;">·<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span>We were with some caring people. This was the first trip on a C130 for most of us, and for many, this was their first earthquake. One VIP in particular spent the pre-flight once we were on the plane ensuring we had earplugs and ensuring that we were ready for a different sort of air trip. (We also passed out sick bags for those that were worried.) That same VIP realized that several of my friends were a tad nervous, and he chatted with one for 15 minutes about her work, her boyfriend, etc., just to distract her. We had to scream to hear, and even then it was hard. The outpouring of love and support to everyone was amazing.</div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 39.0pt; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;"><span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;">·<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span>We have an amazing Ambassador. <a href="http://blogs.newzealand.usembassy.gov/ambassador/">Here</a> is a link to his official blog. Let me just say that it was his call that we were safely removed. It was him on the tarmac as we got off the plane. It was him who ensured that we had housing last night. It was him who made sure that a Navy Captain was there to pick us up and take us to our lodging. The embassy staff, along with the Ambassador, ensured we had everything. I have rarely before been so impressed with a group of people. </div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 39.0pt; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;"><span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;">·<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span>I was wearing Flourite. Ok, odd one, but I’m putting it here. I bought this bracelet about two years ago, and it is both pretty and useful. Apparently, florite sold out after 9/11 because it has a calming effect. I don’t know if it helped, but I’m glad I have it on.</div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast" style="margin-left: 39.0pt; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;"><span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;">·<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span>We are alive. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">That last point is, of course, the most important. As I talked to people who saw the damage, and the news came through that at least 65 people had died, the cathedral I had photographed that morning to show my parents a view from their hotel where they are set to stay in a month, had collapsed, and hotels and buildings around the city still contained missing persons, the last point hit home harder and harder. We are alive, uninjured, and together. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">These next few days will be about processing. I beg of you to think of those in need right now. I was treated the way I would expect royalty to be treated, perhaps because I was with the VIPs of both countries, but also because I know how much the Fulbright program means to our current Ambassador. I feel like I do not deserve such treatment, but I am grateful for the support and caring that we received. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I have been in many, many earthquakes in my life, but this was, by far, the roughest (though not worst magnitude). The last time I went through one that resulted in a state of emergency I was 7. Today I can grasp what happened. I woke up this morning in a strange but safe bed unsure of what I experienced yesterday. There will be more posts, but I wanted you to all know that I feel “lucky.” I do not actually believe in luck, so the better word is grateful, incredibly, incredibly, incredibly grateful. Wow!</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">It is now several hours later, and I have not had internet access to post this, so I am adding to it. I am actually on a flight from Wellington to Dunedin as I type this, and as I read the newspaper, the survivor guilt sunk in. Why me? Not only did I survive, but I got to leave the city – in a military jet. I know it is the embassy’s job to ensure our safety, but after being in a devastating earthquake my biggest inconvenience is that I had to buy a toothbrush at the airport, wear the same clothes two days in a row, and get back to Dunedin about 15 hours after I was supposed to arrive there. Oh, and some of my stuff is still in Christchurch. That is hard to stomach, really hard. But yes, I am grateful, and I know that this Forum / Partnership is going to do what we can to send whatever help we can to the people who have been hurt, killed, displaced, etc.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Namaste and Blessings!</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;"><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Cambria;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: xx-small; white-space: pre-wrap;">© 2011 Rebecca Stahl, all rights reserved</span></span></span></div></span><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: xx-small; line-height: 19px; white-space: pre-wrap;">This blog is not affiliated with Fulbright or Fulbright New Zealand, and all opinions expressed herein are my own.</span> </div><!--EndFragment-->Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05321991410940383270noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7810101995700108921.post-45126170122417331472011-02-19T13:32:00.000-08:002011-02-19T13:32:47.481-08:00The Little Things<!--StartFragment--> <br />
<div class="MsoNormal">During orientation we were asked to embrace the differences between New Zealand and the United States. I appreciate the sentiment; after all, an underlying purpose of the Fulbright Program is to ensure understanding between cultures. But it seems sort of silly between New Zealand and the United States. After all, I have one <a href="http://www.isak.typepad.com/">friend</a> on a Fulbright in Kenya, and another friend currently in Georgia (the country, not the state) teaching English after having spent time in South Korea teaching English and doing the Peace Corps in Tanzania. New Zealand is small potatoes next to those.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">With that disclaimer, however, there are a few differences I have noticed, and while I do not want to imply that either country has a <a href="http://www.freep.com/article/20110214/OPINION05/110213019/Online-commentary-Beware-assigning-Detroit-single-story-?odyssey=nav|head">single story</a> (the link is to an amazing article written by the friend in Kenya about places having single stories), I do want to point out the most interesting differences I have noticed over the past month. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">First, people here walk around without shoes. I thought it was just in the south at first. After all, the south in so many countries (gross generalization) seems to be far more relaxed. But no, people do it everywhere in the country, from the Bay of Islands (think San Diego beach town) to Auckland (think major metropolis – 1/3 of the New Zealand population lives here). And yes, they go into stores and restaurants without shoes. By no means is it everyone, but I see several everyday. The best part was the American I saw at the bank without shoes – apparently he caught on quickly. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Second, teatime! I wrote about how wonderful teatime is on my other blog, <a href="http://isyogalegal.blogspot.com/2011/02/lessons-from-yoga-and-tea.html">Is Yoga Legal</a>, but here I want to discuss it differently. I noted in my <a href="http://kiaorafromtomorrow.blogspot.com/2011/02/english-or-pacific.html">last post</a> that NZ used to be tied to the Motherland – the UK until it realized that it is much closer to the Pacific Island nations. I really will get more into that another time, but back to tea. The tea culture, no doubt, comes from NZ’s English history. With no evidence to support this notion, I believe that teatime was a requirement in England. It is COLD and DARK. Tea warms you up, which seems to be as good a reason as any to have morning tea and afternoon tea and tea after supper. I happen to love this, and I love even more that the law school at the University of Otago has a tearoom. It is about the size of a closet, but there is a hot water dispenser, and a sign asking people not to use too much milk, so there is enough for everyone. Many people take milk in their tea here – something that has not caught no as much in America.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Third, lax (or no) security on airlines. I did not remove my shoes or throw out my coffee when transferring from the International to the Domestic Terminal in Auckland and going through security again. I even got to keep my sweatshirt on. I thought it was lovely. Then I went from Dunedin to Wellington where they opened security ten minutes before the flight took off. I thought that was cute. Then, from Wellington to Dunedin, my flight number had 4 digits. Someone told me this meant it would be a small plane with no security. I laughed . . . then I saw that she was right. You read that correctly – <b><i>no</i></b> security. I will just leave that for you to ponder.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Finally, I would be remiss if I did not mention one final thing (though there are many more, and another post will come with those). I took a shuttle to the airport for my trip to Wellington, and my bracelet fell off in the shuttle. The shuttle driver came inside and found me, outside security, of course, because it was not open, and she returned my bracelet to me. I think that action embodies so much of what I have witnessed here – amazing people. I laugh and grin about shoeless people in banks, but what I really see is how wonderful people have been, how welcoming, warm, and genuinely happy to talk to me. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I know there are wonderful people in the United States, but when we are forced to rely on others, living in a foreign country, we appreciate it a lot more. I feel so blessed to be here, so lucky to be among such amazing and wonderfully warm-hearted people, and to be in this beautiful country. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Namaste and Blessings.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Cambria;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: xx-small; white-space: pre-wrap;">© 2011 Rebecca Stahl, all rights reserved</span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: xx-small; line-height: 19px; white-space: pre-wrap;">This blog is not affiliated with Fulbright or Fulbright New Zealand, and all opinions expressed herein are my own.</span> </div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><!--EndFragment-->Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05321991410940383270noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7810101995700108921.post-85101391440156509872011-02-15T14:07:00.000-08:002011-02-15T14:07:44.478-08:00English or Pacific?<!--StartFragment--> <br />
<div class="MsoNormal">After the amazing trip to the <a href="http://kiaorafromtomorrow.blogspot.com/2011/02/goodwill-to-all.html">Maori Marae</a>, Fulbright orientation continued to amaze. We had a wonderful introduction to the flora and fauna of New Zealand, during which we learned why NZ is full of such huge, and many flightless, birds – there were no land predators. The big debate is whether there are one or two native mammals in NZ. Yes, one or two. They know of a very small bat that does not act like other bats, and they just recently found the remains of what might have been another mammal, but no one is sure.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Sadly, the Maori and then the Europeans brought rats, pigs, dogs, etc. to the country and almost overnight wiped out the vast majority of the huge, flightless birds. Today, the kiwi bird is the most well-known flightless bird that remains in the country, and it has iconic status here, especially in that New Zealanders often refer to themselves as kiwis, though not as often as I had expected. ;)</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Then, after this amazing introduction, we took a guided tour through the Otari Bush right within the city limits of Wellington. You would have no idea, however, that you were in a city. We saw an 800-year-old Rimu, which is one of the native trees in New Zealand, few of which remain that old because of all the logging and fires by people. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg62oZPn9gLsgSPXnkh3gG0Cr-74-D8H9kf7X6GOHrc7A-3vzkCpmr-muYwBaOTW7p7xOL7vflv2rW0Q1bTZz2NKmv5lY7ARZ_VhgWM6OwU5I5-X3BspL8ZFN0AT-SVyGpE2poCqJJs8A/s1600/P1010196.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg62oZPn9gLsgSPXnkh3gG0Cr-74-D8H9kf7X6GOHrc7A-3vzkCpmr-muYwBaOTW7p7xOL7vflv2rW0Q1bTZz2NKmv5lY7ARZ_VhgWM6OwU5I5-X3BspL8ZFN0AT-SVyGpE2poCqJJs8A/s320/P1010196.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><o:p> Yes, this is a group of Fulbright Fellows and Scholars hugging the 800-year-old tree. :)</o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtyHtklk9KOTkp8cf7Z_kEOTJWeBdtQjrybnyttZ7L1GH7CLqGhuT4c2XiJiatpW4ACf6ip56qIBmMwxmS1CQaJMJoZveSdQznifui1C4_qGB27Ial7wOs1jr_YhIEiUXMXplr87cCKw/s1600/P1010182.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtyHtklk9KOTkp8cf7Z_kEOTJWeBdtQjrybnyttZ7L1GH7CLqGhuT4c2XiJiatpW4ACf6ip56qIBmMwxmS1CQaJMJoZveSdQznifui1C4_qGB27Ial7wOs1jr_YhIEiUXMXplr87cCKw/s320/P1010182.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">Yes, that is actually sun and blue sky in Wellington. We were so lucky!</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">The next day, we learned all about the peopling of the Pacific, the migration from Taiwan through the islands, all the way to Hawaii. Not much is known for sure, but my big question throughout the presentation, and one that I asked, was, “how did they miss Australia?” When people talk about the Pacific Islands, they include New Zealand, but not Australia because the migration never went there. It is the largest landmass, by far, in the region, and people made it through vast ocean space to end up in Hawaii, but they never went to Australia. This is a question I will continue to ponder.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">It leads to another interesting issue, and one brought up by our flora and fauna speaker. Is New Zealand an English nation or a Pacific Island? He told us that when he was growing up, prior to the 1980s, really, New Zealand was British through and through. New Zealanders were proud to send their men to fight in England’s wars, proud of their English status, and certainly fish and chips are available everywhere. But then something started to change. The Maori population got louder, began to question the role and implementation of the Treaty of Waitangi – the document that “created” European New Zealand, New Zealand began to have its own trade with nearby nations, as opposed to sending all its goods to England, and they realized that they are a small, isolated land mass, but surrounded by Pacific Islands, all of which have their own cultures and customs, many of which are anciently shared with the Maori. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Overtime New Zealand has started to see itself as a Pacific Island instead of as a British country. New Zealand is, however, still a part of the British commonwealth, but more than half of our speakers, including the ones talking specifically about the political climate, discussed the growing belief that New Zealand will form a Republic soon. There has even been talk of changing the flag from the Union Jack / Southern Cross to a picture of the Silver Leaf – the national plant (and absolutely beautiful) of New Zealand, and I even heard someone mention the idea of renaming the country to Aotearoa, the Maori name for the country, meaning Land of the Long White Cloud. In other words, though they take tea at 10 and 4, New Zealand is finding its roots as a Pacific Nation more appealing.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">All of this was great as we ended orientation with a discussion with a Member of Parliament and a tour of the Parliament building. It was loads of interesting and useful information, and after being oriented, I feel so much more prepared to engage with the community here, and so excited and honored to be part of a culture coming to grips with its place in the world. I certainly did not give this topic enough justice here, and I am sure I will add more in the future, but this post is long enough.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Namaste and Blessings!</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Cambria;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: xx-small; white-space: pre-wrap;">© 2011 Rebecca Stahl, all rights reserved</span></span></span><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: xx-small; line-height: 19px; white-space: pre-wrap;">This blog is not affiliated with Fulbright or Fulbright New Zealand, and all opinions expressed herein are my own.</span> </div><!--EndFragment-->Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05321991410940383270noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7810101995700108921.post-27925507296068028732011-02-09T10:18:00.000-08:002011-02-09T10:18:12.228-08:00Goodwill to All<!--StartFragment--> <br />
<div class="MsoNormal">Fulbright orientation has begun, and what a great experience it has been so far. On the first day, we got a Maori pronunciation lesson and then headed out to a Maori Marae, called Waiwhet<span style="mso-fareast-font-family: Kai;">u. The marae has a traditional meetinghouse whose name translated into English is “Goodwill to all Men.” The people who live at the marae exhibited this sentiment beyond expectations. The word marae includes the space of the meeting house, but also the space around it as it is the center of the community for all types of activities.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-fareast-font-family: Kai;">As I mentioned in my </span><a href="http://kiaorafromtomorrow.blogspot.com/2011/02/what-trip.html">last post</a><span style="mso-fareast-font-family: Kai;">, New Zealanders are a hospitable people. But this was hospitality beyond measure. Interestingly, the marae’s sister city is Tempe, Arizona, so I was called out being from Phoenix. In addition, there are a couple of lawyers in the community, and one of them does family law, so I hope to continue staying in touch with the people of the community.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-fareast-font-family: Kai;">We were welcomed with a traditional welcome ceremony, in which the US Ambassador to New Zealand was our representative and spoke on our behalf, thanking the members of the community for welcoming us and providing such warm hospitality. We had the opportunity to speak with him as well as spend two days with the members of the community. It was truly an honor.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-fareast-font-family: Kai;">In addition to the cultural interaction, we had a presentation about the Treaty of Waitangi, which is considered the founding document of New Zealand (with a </span><a href="http://isyogalegal.blogspot.com/2011/02/through-eyes-of-child.html">funny story</a><span style="mso-fareast-font-family: Kai;"> that opened my eyes yet again to the power of beginner's mind). It was a treaty signed by a representative of Queen Victoria and many of the tribal (iwi) leaders of New Zealand. It was first signed on February 6, 1840, and during my whirlwind trip through the north island, we stopped at Waitangi. We had the honor of hearing about the treaty from a Maori who continues to be involved in its present-day implementation.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-fareast-font-family: Kai;">All of this was wonderful, but I think the best part of the experience was being in the meetinghouse, in fact, sleeping in the meetinghouse. A traditional Maori meetinghouse is built to look like a person. The long pole along the roof represents the person’s backbone, the rafters are the rib cage, and the front is a person’s arms welcoming people inside. Each of them have a head on the front depicting the person represented. Inside, it is a dedication to the ancestors of the community. It is sacred space, a place for births, weddings, funerals, discussions, welcomes, etc. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjN3vcKwO-zzXeom0jL0gyTZ0waLFO7om8dq7nF5RNQUC8Q7X9i59QON5Y_NARYFKOo5CaDsWkin4dzyRPEkdLKCPeNrB_kdNIi0IfUBKFeGq_0IIImHfAnkroTiMcuA53H1pZtgRf5Yw/s1600/P1010133.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjN3vcKwO-zzXeom0jL0gyTZ0waLFO7om8dq7nF5RNQUC8Q7X9i59QON5Y_NARYFKOo5CaDsWkin4dzyRPEkdLKCPeNrB_kdNIi0IfUBKFeGq_0IIImHfAnkroTiMcuA53H1pZtgRf5Yw/s320/P1010133.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">A view from the front of the meeting house. The rafters reaching out are the arms welcoming all people, and you can see the head at the very top of the triangle.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibvrp73CzUN2zdTFgJ7bjpEbB20O6_aNkJMl7WCIEJ_8gryBHCR6ViX76DQ8rq7XJ_SQsszMB6zGLG13RUGNaaQoXtmca_CapqqzqYc-Uem6JN25zmNa0nBYvp0EO0-Glcrl09W8E8Xw/s1600/P1010137.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibvrp73CzUN2zdTFgJ7bjpEbB20O6_aNkJMl7WCIEJ_8gryBHCR6ViX76DQ8rq7XJ_SQsszMB6zGLG13RUGNaaQoXtmca_CapqqzqYc-Uem6JN25zmNa0nBYvp0EO0-Glcrl09W8E8Xw/s320/P1010137.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">A close-up of the head, representing the ancestor after whom the meetinghouse is named.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-fareast-font-family: Kai;">We all slept together on mattresses literally touching (though we each had our own mattress), and as I fell asleep, I felt the energy of the room literally holding me. Another Fulbright Fellow said the next morning, “it was held space.” In other words, I was not the only one who felt it. Being part of that sacred space was a delight and an honor, but on top of all of that, the house is called, “Goodwill to all men.” It was yet another reminder that when we wish all people goodwill, when we attempt to live together, in community, with all people (and I would say all beings), we find ourselves in that held space. We find ourselves safe. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-fareast-font-family: Kai;">Orientation is far from over. Up next is an introduction to the flora and fauna of New Zealand, a tour of the New Zealand bush, and then more information about the political structure of the country, but I am glad we started by being held, all together, by the ancestors of a very local Maori community. There can be no better welcome to this hospitable country than the sacred space of a home inviting us to have goodwill to all.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><span style="font-family: Cambria; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Kai; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Namaste and Blessings!</span><!--EndFragment--> <br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Cambria;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #29303b; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Cambria;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #29303b; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: xx-small; white-space: pre-wrap;">© 2011 Rebecca Stahl, all rights reserved</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #29303b; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small; white-space: pre-wrap;">This blog is not affiliated with Fulbright or Fulbright New Zealand, and all opinions expressed herein are my own.</span></span></span></span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05321991410940383270noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7810101995700108921.post-83526874841585326982011-02-07T11:52:00.000-08:002011-02-07T11:52:56.451-08:00What a Trip<div class="MsoNormal">This has been an intense week. I met up with a fellow Fulbrighter (who will be getting her master’s in cross cultural psychology focusing on deaf culture), and together we took two days to drive to Auckland from Wellington. We stopped in a cute town called Whangerei (the WH is an F sound, but more on Maori pronunciation after orientation begins today), where we climbed a huge hill and a tower and experienced the craziest wind ever, and then we headed to Waitomo – the home of the infamous caves from the <a href="http://kiaorafromtomorrow.blogspot.com/2011/02/home-of-adventure-tourism.html">last post</a>!</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8YUyxtikyfH9ibp6OKAPyh-4Mkm_ohLJ7Aqwbxbqm7Sk-FuPXcbr_MzOUcwsNk1PAYoWBTh2hb8xDoKYVGVZ4M4i0aJNKrtHdepaxRRRQj5EN-epR648eB7HxN-dHVFnxrY6tf7hBXg/s1600/P1000654.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8YUyxtikyfH9ibp6OKAPyh-4Mkm_ohLJ7Aqwbxbqm7Sk-FuPXcbr_MzOUcwsNk1PAYoWBTh2hb8xDoKYVGVZ4M4i0aJNKrtHdepaxRRRQj5EN-epR648eB7HxN-dHVFnxrY6tf7hBXg/s320/P1000654.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal">After the caves, we headed to Auckland where I got my third exposure to New Zealand hospitality – my sister-in-law’s, sister’s in-laws had me over for a night and invited me back anytime I am up in Auckland again. I have never met their son, though I do know his wife (my sister-in-law’s sister) quite well. The New Zealanders are amazing and wonderful. I feel so blessed to be here.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">The next morning, my first travel buddy and I met up with two other Fulbrighters, and we started by heading up to the Bay of Islands. Along the way, we found a gorgeous and wonderful café totally by chance (yes, I know, the universe was watching, but it felt like chance in the moment), full of yummy veggie food. Did I mention that one travel buddy is vegan and the other is vegetarian, not to mention I would prefer to eat veggie 90% of the time, and the last guy also likes veggie? It worked out well for that stop. <span style="font-family: Wingdings;">J</span> We also stopped at some famous toilets, decorated by mosaic and a perfect opportunity to get out of the car and stretch our legs! <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJ-M5ay5Sv6jD33EQiOj7i9wPL4bd4FMaf8d7LEzEX2O-Dmto0O9F3uk2v0FrTrBXxZGTnURmuPULz5XyaAcQUCe3_Qv4XiPvGK_XdgOUYYlYez6LfcTVIpjjIzvCanbMiX82ElWBM1A/s1600/P1000707.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJ-M5ay5Sv6jD33EQiOj7i9wPL4bd4FMaf8d7LEzEX2O-Dmto0O9F3uk2v0FrTrBXxZGTnURmuPULz5XyaAcQUCe3_Qv4XiPvGK_XdgOUYYlYez6LfcTVIpjjIzvCanbMiX82ElWBM1A/s320/P1000707.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">The bathrooms and my travel buddies (Tom, Sunshine, Elli)</div></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Our next stop was Waitangi, where the Treaty of Waitangi was signed, which is the “agreement” between the Maori and the Europeans. I will have a lot more to say about this after orientation, so here is just a beautiful shot of the locale, and the history will come later.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPxhup0OzLs0FA6kAApAiQFvmeAtcunDzJA8IZOOFZU510SRZw8am5d1TyLMjG5BuWdk_wMBpOkmc4LeodtlLCDlG1a1JQuLqWyIw0vCfyOiTjTDdr-Z28wJKvPgFepU5yFHT5iRx2rQ/s1600/P1000735.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPxhup0OzLs0FA6kAApAiQFvmeAtcunDzJA8IZOOFZU510SRZw8am5d1TyLMjG5BuWdk_wMBpOkmc4LeodtlLCDlG1a1JQuLqWyIw0vCfyOiTjTDdr-Z28wJKvPgFepU5yFHT5iRx2rQ/s320/P1000735.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">Maori war canoe overlooking the amazingly beautiful lake with a really cool tree!</div></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">The Bay of Islands was a bit like a San Diego beach town, but our hostel was nice, and we had a beautiful sunset walk. The next morning I woke up early, walked alone for a bit, and then we got on a boat to see some dolphins. My travel buddies wanted to swim with them, but that ended up not being possible because the only ones we saw had too many juveniles with them, and if people get in the water the juveniles forget to eat (too excited by the people), and they do not get their blubber layer, and they could get hypothermia – better just to stay on the boat. But we could put our heads directly over the edge of the boat and look right down into the water. It was awesome!<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXcuq9d8lo3EWiVe2LPnoyzrVfLYr0qaHK9s7AjlyFSoXGrLIdl9ZA6moqm-D9MyBafmvlLq8A8Hgt-ptOYAeKaVLsMBhsT5ahkUWxVxfIeFgil3aVTHyFLeElspxETTldfL8VC_28QA/s1600/P1000811.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXcuq9d8lo3EWiVe2LPnoyzrVfLYr0qaHK9s7AjlyFSoXGrLIdl9ZA6moqm-D9MyBafmvlLq8A8Hgt-ptOYAeKaVLsMBhsT5ahkUWxVxfIeFgil3aVTHyFLeElspxETTldfL8VC_28QA/s320/P1000811.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal">Then we headed back towards Auckland, with a stop at some beautiful waterfalls along the way. I mean, why not?<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgol5yplz1O4SA0rG4Xf1yEmjdGLKt0Dd8UhDsNgghyphenhyphenqHEWNc6ij1N-5tLvsne7K7aR5qXOfVkcrzFkmQrvkGwRp7GLOK9Od9aNe8QrD1Cc02CUi4t731-0FX7bfAAR54vfQiVEa8BBow/s1600/P1000865.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgol5yplz1O4SA0rG4Xf1yEmjdGLKt0Dd8UhDsNgghyphenhyphenqHEWNc6ij1N-5tLvsne7K7aR5qXOfVkcrzFkmQrvkGwRp7GLOK9Od9aNe8QrD1Cc02CUi4t731-0FX7bfAAR54vfQiVEa8BBow/s320/P1000865.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br />
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Back in Auckland, we bypassed the city and encountered some more kiwi hospitality. Here goes: one of our travel buddies worked at a science camp for a few weeks, met someone there who lives outside of Auckland with her parents. He asked if we could stay, and she said yes. When we arrived, however, it turned out that there just was not enough space at her parents’ house, so they sent us to their friend’s house, who not only gave us all a mattress but breakfast and my first encounter with vegemite as well. Vegemite is about the scariest looking creation in the world, but then I read the ingredients and realized it is brewer’s yeast and salt, which is chalk full of B vitamins, so I tried it. It’s salty, but not too bad. Go Brits!</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Back on the road, we headed up to the Coromandel Peninsula, a much nicer beach town in my book, with a more relaxed and less surfer vibe. We found another great veggie restaurant where we had lunch and breakfast the next morning with a beautiful Dalai Lama quote on the wall – “Approach love and cooking with reckless abandon.” How true, how true. After lunch, we rented some bikes, and biked to a hiking trail, then hiked along to a beautiful lake. Then later, we hiked some more, waded through some incoming tides, and headed out to one of the Top 10 beaches in New Zealand. Getting back was a bit interesting, but we made it before the tide came in. Go us!! </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">From Coromandel, we headed to Rotorua, the geothermal capital of New Zealand with a stop at some falls along the way and a beautiful beach we happened upon because we needed a rest stop (read pee break). When we arrived in Rotorua, it was hot and humid, so the other three went for a swim in Blue Lake, and I headed out on what many said was a 2-hour hike and made it back in just under an hour. It was a GORGEOUS hike through native bush around the beautiful lake, and I had a blast walking around getting rejuvenated by the trees (I do not swim if I can avoid it).</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">The last day of the trip we headed to the sulphur pools in the morning, which were amazing, and they overlooked the lake and the mountains, and it was misty and lovely. Then three of us headed to the Wai-O-Taupo Thermal Wonderland halfway between Rotorua and Taupo. I was not sure I wanted to go in, as it was sort of expensive, but it was well worth it. We saw pools of geothermal water that was crazy colors, much of it bubbling and steaming, and the craziest green water I have ever seen. I swear it was neon. This photo does not do it justice, but it is the best my camera could do.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">From there we headed to Taupo where we sat on a beach, some swam, and then three of us walked up the river to watch crazy people jump off a platform, plummeting towards their death only to be wretched back up by a rope attached to their ankles. For added “fun” they could ask to have the rope long enough to dunk them. The other option (which sounds less scary but still probably not on my list) is the swing, where you sit in a harness, whereupon they drop you down into the same chasm (actually off the same platform at a different point), and you swing back and forth until they haul you back up. At least on the bungy, you get off on the ground. Craziness, I tell you, but those are the adventure tourists, and Taupo is home to bungy jumping. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Finally, we ended our time together with a lovely sunset walk through Taupo, and the next morning we got up early, and drove to Wellington. Really, we got up early, got in the car, they fell asleep, and I drove to Wellington, but it was great. We got back in time to return the car before we got charged extra, and we had the day to catch up on life. Today is when Fulbright orientation starts! </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Ok, one more finally – I need to say that this blog has no affiliation with Fulbright. Anything I say is my own and is not supported by Fulbright in any way. This blog is really about fun and personal adventure, and if you would like to read my more professional blog (still not Fulbright-affiliated), please visit it at <a href="http://www.isyogalegal.blogspot.com/">www.isyogalegal.blogspot.com</a>.<br />
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Bad news - I lost my McDonald's internet (used up my bandwidth), and the waterfront internet is too slow to allow uploads of photos, so the rest will be uploaded later. Until then, check out the photos on facebook that I have posted. Here are some public links:<br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px;">http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2708152&id=10123506&l=f99cfd4024</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 11px;">http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2708145&id=10123506&l=e6394bb793</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 11px;">http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2708142&id=10123506&l=2908eaefdc</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><span style="font-family: Cambria; font-size: 12pt;">Namaste and Blessings!</span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05321991410940383270noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7810101995700108921.post-13749278827031778272011-02-01T13:05:00.000-08:002011-02-01T13:05:20.151-08:00The Home of Adventure Tourism<!--StartFragment--> <br />
<div class="MsoNormal">Many, many people have told me that while in New Zealand I absolutely must jump off of something, whether attached to a rope only to be ripped back up by my ankles moments from crashing into the rocks below or by jumping out of a plane to freefall for a minute attached to some guy I do not know until he deems the time worthy to pull the cord and allow the parachute to open. My answer? NOT ON YOUR LIFE!!</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">But there is no denying that New Zealand is the adventure tourism capital of the world. From bungy jumping to sky diving to jet boating and ziplining, this country has something to offer anyone who needs insanity to get a kick out of life. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">On Monday, another Fulbrighter and myself hopped into a car in Wellington with our only instruction being to return the car with 48 hours in Auckland.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(From Wellington to Auckland you can rent a car for free because so many people take them the other way. How cool is that?) We decided to spend a day at the Waitomo Caves about ¾ of the way between the two cities.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I would have been perfectly happy taking the walking tours of the three caves to see the cave formations and the glow worms, but my travel buddy said she wanted to do the whole experience, including repelling, ziplining, and hiking through the crazy current that runs 200 feet below the earth. I obliged. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">So what did we do? We abseiled (in the US, we call this repelling) 37 meters into the cave. Alone on a rope, we inched our ways down, and yes, I freaked out halfway through. Then, without warning, they had us turn off our lights, and one by one attached us to a flying fox (aka a zipline), and let us go. To add to our amusement, they smacked pots on the other end to make it sound like some of us slammed into rocks. I went last – NOT a good idea. ;) Both were awesome, though. The zipline was probably one of the highlights, and the only adventure tourism I might repeat in the future.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Next they sat us on a cliff overlooking the water and handed us hot chocolate and cookies. It was cold down there. Then they handed us innertubes and said jump. Ok, I can fly through the air attached to a cord and fall 100 feet into a cave, but I am absolutely not jumping off the side of a cliff to land in water. I neither like swimming nor jumping into things, and the combination seems absurd. I climbed down the side of the rock (luckily I was not the only one). From there, we grabbed a rope and hauled ourselves upstream while sitting in the innertubes. And that is when we saw the glow worms.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">People come from all over to see the glow worm caves. They are beautiful when it is dark and peaceful, and the glow worms light the top of the cave. So what are they? Maggots, really. Yup, they glow to attract other insects, including their own kind, and then release little strings, much like a spider web, though not webbed, and then unsuspecting insects fly into them, get stuck, and become lunch. Then the glow worms turn into flies, whereupon they have one task – mating – and then they die. But they must be the most beautiful maggots in the world! </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">After pulling and paddling upstream, we took a leisurely (though getting very cold) float back downstream right back to the site of the jump whereupon we started hiking back upstream, with a little stop for chocolate and hot tang. Ok, this requires a stop . Normally I would not touch Tang, I would not smell Tang, but when you are freezing at the bottom of a cave, and your body needs the sugar, in any form, and you do not have a nice hot cup of tea and honey, you take the Tang. No judging!</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Then came the part they left out of the brochure – the swimming and climbing up waterfalls. Yes, we did what they lovingly call the drunken stumble upstream. This entails attempting to walk over rocks you cannot see through black water against the tide. Then we swam, crawled our way through the rebirthing channel, so small I barely fit through, and then climbed, yes climbed up a waterfall, with a little waterslide thrown in there for good measure. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Did I mention that I have a huge phobia of water in my face?</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">So we climbed up two waterfalls and made it back to land, where it was sunny and beautiful and in a land full of trees, and they took us back, gave us showers, and gave us soup and bagels. I warmed up by the evening, and as I write this the next morning, most of me is not sore, except my wrist, my ankle (still a bit sore from a 3-month-old sprain) and right where the helmet attached to my head.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But I do not mind that particular pain – I banged my head many, many times, and that helmet was always there to lessen the blow. Thank goodness!</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">So, that is my experience with adventure tourism in the adventure tourism capital of the world. I failed to jump off anything, but I faced some fears, swam, got water in my face and come on, I repelled into a cave and lived to tell the tale! I deserve some credit, right?</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I do not have a lot of the photos, but here is a before shot of me freaking out. You cannot tell, but I was about ready to die. The other photo would not upload, and I must get going, so this is all you get, sorry!</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><span style="font-family: Cambria; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Cambria; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Thanks for reading!</span><!--EndFragment--> <br />
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</span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05321991410940383270noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7810101995700108921.post-58176441529651859252011-01-29T23:11:00.000-08:002011-01-29T23:11:30.736-08:00When it is not so novelTo put it mildly, I have been incredibly lucky in my life to travel . . . a lot. Each new city / place is an opportunity to see the world in an entirely new way. On my <a href="http://isyogalegal.blogspot.com/">other blog</a>, I have been looking at how these experiences can help us overcome some of our deep-seated patterns in life, those patterns that drive our actions unconsciously (<a href="http://isyogalegal.blogspot.com/2011/01/looking-right.html">here</a> and <a href="http://isyogalegal.blogspot.com/2011/01/all-difference.html">here</a>). But there always comes a point where the novelty of something new becomes second nature. I remember my first day as a camp counselor for the YMCA when my supervisor had to give me explicit directions to the site, and almost two years later reflecting on how getting there had become completely unconscious. It was one of the first times in my life that I saw that happen.<br />
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So, here I am in New Zealand. I'm learning to look right before crossing the street and using the map less and less. The buildings look familiar, and even the trees and ocean are becoming just part of the landscape. Anyone who knows me well (or reads my facebook page) knows that trees are one of the most healing aspects of the planet for me, so it is odd that I am not obsessed with them anymore. But that is life.<br />
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Our brains must be our filters. There is simply too much information going on around us, and if we noticed all of it, we would go crazy (of course, meditation helps us notice more without going crazy, but that is for the other blog). But something else happens when the excitement becomes common place - loneliness. When everything is new, there is never time for me to be lonely. I am just constantly excited to see what comes next. But as that wears off, and other aspects of the quotidien re-emerge, the loneliness begins to kick in.<br />
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This has been an odd sort of "holiday." I have spent some of my time being a complete tourist, taking in the sites, going on a Lord of the Rings tour and visiting botanical gardens and taking walking tours, and I have spent some of my time meeting with professors, meeting a judge's law clerk, hanging out at the Fulbright office, getting a bank account / cell phone, and even doing a presentation at a conference in Sedona (by skype).<br />
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But amidst it all, I am still content. There are moments of loneliness, moments of excitement, moments of fascination, and moments where I remember why I am here. In just over a week, I have met some amazingly warm people, seen some of the most beautiful landscape of my life, and presented at a conference by skype. This last week has been unlike any before, and I love how all aspects of my life are coming together. It is said that if you find something you love, you will never work a day in your life. This experience of blending is the closest I have ever come to that.<br />
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Interestingly, I started this post thinking that I was going to talk about how lonely I am, but upon reflection, I continue to see how lucky and content I am. (I also must add that people walk barefoot here - in the city!) Thus, when life is not so novel, we can learn to find the daily gems, the daily experiences that make us happy. It is nice to have a rainforest to remind us once in awhile, but everyday is a gift, and each moment can be full of the excitement we bring to the novelist of experiences.<br />
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On that note, I'm driving on the left side of the road tomorrow. Yikes! Cross your fingers.<br />
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And here are some of my favorite photos so far. Thanks for reading!<br />
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Namaste and Blessings!<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJwjArTKd6q3zeZuiAirytn1mHpqFe0MC85jymVwD1ZCpypXeAUTOugKZgZQ3msq_Upn6QSbj63m3TnBAhAlZdU-Mt4MDd5ArS7gDJ7C3Nr0zYnp1VxUtRMRSxZsuW50CFT0bK1QjF6w/s1600/P1000239.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJwjArTKd6q3zeZuiAirytn1mHpqFe0MC85jymVwD1ZCpypXeAUTOugKZgZQ3msq_Upn6QSbj63m3TnBAhAlZdU-Mt4MDd5ArS7gDJ7C3Nr0zYnp1VxUtRMRSxZsuW50CFT0bK1QjF6w/s320/P1000239.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">This is the Anglican Church in Dunedin, which is funny because the city was settled by Presbyterians, but this Church is in the main square. It is gorgeous.</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguZK-hkeDyiLgpeT1s8tXTmYZtsBypt6lWIHhgDaI_xJA2qe_Cc_JjbISH07LTRP_Eu9t35J9fGftQtRV2zgYwJSzzSKkMch12eAQom0ps6j_2NjJIOedvmXVoOVPfGNtkBhB9N_pUjg/s1600/P1000560.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguZK-hkeDyiLgpeT1s8tXTmYZtsBypt6lWIHhgDaI_xJA2qe_Cc_JjbISH07LTRP_Eu9t35J9fGftQtRV2zgYwJSzzSKkMch12eAQom0ps6j_2NjJIOedvmXVoOVPfGNtkBhB9N_pUjg/s320/P1000560.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">This is a view of Wellington from Mt. Victoria. I love the shadows the clouds made over the hills. And yes, that is the Pacific ocean out there. I also would like to mention that I hiked to the top of this "hill." I am not in as good of shape as I thought. :)</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05321991410940383270noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7810101995700108921.post-30915759631779331432011-01-27T23:23:00.001-08:002011-01-27T23:23:51.728-08:00What a Difference a Week Makes<div style="font: 12.0px Cambria; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">A week ago, I landed in Dunedin, New Zealand, a small town on the south island. The only thing I knew about the town was that it is student central, and it is colder in its summer than Phoenix is in its winter. In other words, it is warmer today in Phoenix than in Dunedin.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Cambria; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Cambria; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">On top of all of that, for months I have been “in transition.” My full-time job at the Court of Appeals ended in August, and I have been doing contract work, teaching yoga, traveling, etc. I have been unsettled for months. That made leaving the US and coming to a foreign country, albeit one where they speak English, more difficult than I had imagined it would be.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Cambria; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Cambria; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">But then I arrived.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Cambria; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Cambria; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">From the moment a kind woman picked me up at the airport, I have felt great. She took me to the home of the woman who had graciously offered to host me for four days, and then she drove me all over the city, so I could have a full perspective of everything (and she took me to the bank to set up an account). The next two days, I went to a Farmer’s Market (and if you know me at all, you know how much that means to me), and this kind woman with whom I was staying walked all over town, showing me the university, the town, and orienting me to everything.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Cambria; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Cambria; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Then I met my professor, and immediately I felt a sense of purpose once again in my life. I have direction, and I know that my work is going to make me happy. The excitement I felt just having some idea what I would be doing is beyond words, and I’m so excited to get going. I also met a new friend in Dunedin, who is interested in yoga and meditation. What luck!</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Cambria; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Cambria; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">And now I’m back in travel mode. I’m currently in Wellington, and yesterday I took a Lord of the Rings Tour. It was a blast. I was the only person on the tour, and I would have switched it to today, but I have a meeting with a judge’s law clerk and I am getting together with another Fulbrighter, so we can plan the rest of our trip until orientation.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Cambria; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Cambria; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">A week ago, I was scared to death of living with a host family. Now I know that not only did she let me stay an extra night, but she has offered to let me stay for three weeks when I return to Dunedin before I come back to Wellington for two months (I met the professor here as well). There is so much to say; I have learned to look right before crossing the street, seen the sun rise over the Pacific ocean, walked through two botanical gardens, a forest, and even a rainforest, and I have met with some incredibly wonderful people. </span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Cambria; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Cambria; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">I’m still unsettled, and I may be for quite awhile, but I feel content. I am glad to be here and glad to be able to see how I have changed since the last time I have traveled abroad. I could go on forever about that but not right now. After all, there will be many more posts. </span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Cambria; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Cambria; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Finally, the photos are on facebook, and I am going to try to upload them elsewhere. I promise to do that as soon as I have internet that is not at McDonald’s (no, I am not eating here).</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Cambria; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Cambria; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Thanks for reading. I cannot tell you how much the comments, emails, “likes,” etc. mean to me. Much love to all of you.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Cambria; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Cambria; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Namaste and Blessings! </span></span></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05321991410940383270noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7810101995700108921.post-1580673059536130132011-01-19T08:11:00.000-08:002011-01-19T08:56:35.564-08:00Setting OutWelcome to the blog for my adventures in New Zealand. Why Kia Ora From Tomorrow do you ask? Well, kia ora is the Maori language greeting, and from what I have been told, commonly used by New Zealand English speakers. "From tomorrow" is because New Zealand is one day ahead of the United States, where most of my friends and family are, and it is actually one of the first places in the world to greet the new day. (The idea came from two friends who do not know each other, so thank you, ladies, I appreciate the help, from opposite sides of the country!)<br />
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I leave today at 7:45pm California time. I cannot believe the day has finally arrived. At a conference in New Orleans in May 2009, I told the principal family law judge in New Zealand that one day I would study in his country, and one thing led to another, and by October of that year, I had applied for a Fulbright, and in May 2010, I was accepted, and today I leave. A long journey it has been, but I am excited to begin this path of my life.<br />
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What am I doing do you ask? Well, I explained it all <a href="http://isyogalegal.blogspot.com/2011/01/following-dream.html">here</a>. But for a quick rundown, if you do not want to click through the link, I am studying the New Zealand system for children's representation in courts. I will be mostly based in Dunedin, which is a small town on the south island, but I will also be spending some time in Wellington - probably 2-3 months.<br />
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I do not know what my living situation will be, but hopefully I will soon. Almost immediately upon my arrival in Dunedin, I will be taking off to Wellington, then up to Auckland, meeting up with other Fulbright people, and we will be traveling. This blog will be full of photos, adventures, etc. This is a big step for me; I have lived alone for over 5 years, and the last time I traveled with people was in 2005, and I have a feeling I will be sharing a house and traveling with people I do not know a lot over the next year. It will be an adventure.<br />
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(Also, you may notice that the profile is still linked to my other blog, from Is Yoga Legal, but this blog is not going to be about the law and yoga and how they relate, unless there are times when I cross-post. This blog is purely for fun and going to be about the interesting things that happen in New Zealand.)<br />
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Thanks for reading, and see you from tomorrow!Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05321991410940383270noreply@blogger.com3