On Holiday – Yay! – Part I

Although I’ve only been in NZ a brief time, the arrival of "holiday" (two week break in between school quarters) is about as welcome as the warm sun after a long, crazy rain here. We had our car and some money, though not much, and we knew we wanted to see the country. I had a deeper plan myself. As nice as the people here are, and as beautiful as living across from the beautiful ocean is, the remoteness of this location makes it utterly impossible for us to seriously consider settling in this "village." That is the grim reality of it, and though I am enjoying honing my cooking skills, reading, writing, and painting more, and boning up on my French, I am not one of those people who can remain this way forever. I need to work, it’s part of who I am and part of the reason I spent such a colossal chunk of my life in school. Sadly, this extended education also makes me someone who is not so easily marketable except in larger cities where the type of work I can do (higher level administration or teaching in, preferably, the education or non-profit fields) is available. Where we are living now, there is nothing, just nothing for me to do. Besides agriculture, the only single "industries" in town are local versions of a Gas N Sip.

So, my plan, my hope, is to travel to the south island which not only do I prefer, but I strongly believe, Beau will also. Being from Montana, he is a lover of what I call "BIG nature." He likes his mountains to touch the sky and his rivers to wind endlessly on through forests of pine with a deep rich scent (nevermind that he lived in a shitty area of Kansas for many years). I want him to see the beauty and majesty of the south island, AND for him to see the two big cities of it (Christchurch and Dunedin), and hopefully we could find a fit. His love of big nature in the south, and my need to be in a bigger city with more opportunities. And besides, a "big" city in NZ is about 100,000 people, so it’s really just a nice size for us.

I yearn so much for Beau to love it here, and he is struggling so much with culture shock and adjustment. People think that moving to a new country is just one wild, fun-filled adventure, but usually, it’s very difficult, and you spend a lot of time feeling uncomfortable and out of place, which can be very very challenging for anyone. When you are in this constant state of uneasiness, it’s very difficult to feel happy. Constant uneasiness makes you nervous, irritable, stressed, and indecisive. And yet, I believe, as many who have lived as ex-pats do, it’s all worth it. Of course, it’s not all bad; by being in a new place, you also have the natural feelings of curiosity, wonder, surprise, glee, and appreciation. Beau’s problem really isn’t NZ, though it is almost always his target of frustration. Beau’s real problem is his constant state of unsteadiness at the school. He likes the people he works with and he strives honestly to learn, understand, and apply the NZ system to his classes, but the particularly relaxed approach his school has to education, and hyper-focus on preserving/promoting Maori culture (something he can't really participate in anyway) is tough on a rule-based, assessment standards-disciple that is most Americans, and in particular, my beloved Beau.

So, we climbed into the car with our two small bags. Beau will do most of the driving, and I’ll do most of the reading, although I’ll insist I’ll be driving at some point and he’ll insist he will read when he has a chance or inclination to take out his contacts and wear his glasses. But really, he’ll drive, and I will sit next to him and alternate between cooing at the scenery outside the window and reading aloud long stretches from the current Diana Gabaldon book we are reading together.

We planned to leave in the morning and our goal was to go from our home on the northeast coast of the north island of NZ and make the long drive to Wellington at the southern tip of the same island where we’d board a ferry, car and all, and sail across to the south island, all in one day. Beau had just previously convinced me out of wifely duty to accompany him to a semester-end drink at the local bar with other teachers, which ended up being a delightful time with a group of drunk and happy females, and after questioning them about how long it took to drive to Wellington, we got answers between six and twelve hours. Since I’m the reckless one who tends to lean toward the six hour drive and Beau, being more cautious likes to leave at the twelve hour mark, we compromised.

In the end, me with a constant grip on our flip-page road atlas, and Beau driving fast, but never too fast, it ended up being a very tight trip to the ferry, the drama enhanced when I decided to read over our ferry confirmation and suddenly noticed that it required we be there in line a full hour before the boat was scheduled to leave (we were unhappily planning on coasting in about 10-15 minutes before departure – naïve fucks, I know).

But once we made it to blustery Wellington and frantically followed the ferry signs to the check-in point ("THERE IT IS! TURN LEFT TURN LEFT!") and got in line, suddenly we both deflated with relief, got out of the car, and walked to the water’s edge, where we watched our ferry slowly making its way in to shore. It was a pretty exciting moment, and as we drove our car slowly onto the ferry, clanking and banging along the way, I felt pretty thrilled. As soon as people parked their cars inside the massive ship, there was a mad dash up the stairs to the civilized part of the ship, and there was a slight mob dash to the crappy food court where I unintentionally snatched up the last order of fish and chips from a woman with her four wildly indecisive and whiny children who stood in the line ahead of me for a full two or three minutes frozen in her own doubtfulness. I did one of those polite gestures where you kind of point to the food and point to her and mumble "Do you want those? Are you still in line? Can I FUCKING move ahead of you PLEASE?" She seemed to indicate that I could move on ahead, so I grabbed the last order of fish and chips and walked on. I saw her look at me with shocked indigence and realized that somehow I had misread her, but by that time, I kind of didn’t care.

The rest of the trip was uneventful as Beau and I had a so-so meal and then, due to the crazy wind and rain outside, spent the three hour trip playing Civ IV on our laptop ‘til we arrived, late that night, in Picton, New Zealand – the south island.