A Beautiful City for Rejuvenation

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. 

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.

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.

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.

Sometimes you just have to get away.

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.

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.

Some things should not be allowed.

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.

The Remarkables at sunrise.

The next morning at sunrise (yes, I get up early)!

No words, simply incredible. :)

A view from the sacred mountain.

Emerging pinecones. I finally took the time to pay attention. Nature is amazing!

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.

Thanks, Queenstown!

© Rebecca Stahl 2011, all rights reserved. 

Feeling like an outsider

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.

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.

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 – the Christchurch earthquake. 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).

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.

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.

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?

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?”

“Yes, what a tragedy,” was her response.

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.

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.

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.

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. 

© 2011 Rebecca Stahl, all rights reserved

Being a Citizen Ambassador

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.

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.

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 here for my post about that on Is Yoga Legal).

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

As it says on the Fulbright NZ website, “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.

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.

Namaste and Blessings!

© 2011 Rebecca Stahl, all rights reserved

This blog is not affiliated with Fulbright or Fulbright New Zealand, and all opinions expressed herein are my own.