Sept. 4th Take Two

With the date line crossed on my way to Rarotonga, I've now lived through Sept. 4th twice.  Gill and James were so wonderful - they took me to New Plymouth to catch my flight and we stopped in town for lunch at a wonderful Dim Sum restaurant.  We checked my bag in and then sat and had a coffee while waiting for my flight.  As there is no security lines or anything they waited with me until I joined the line to walk out onto the tarmac and board the plane.  As I was crossing the tarmac I heard my name and they were standing at the fence waving me off.  On the four hour flight to Raro I was beside a young Cook Island man with his infant son.  The medical care on the island isn't as good as in New Zealand, so when his son developed jaundice they sent him to Auckland for treatment.  Although the Cook Islands are self-governing, they are in free association with New Zealand and their health care covers their trips to-and-from NZ for medical reasons.  The country is made up of 15 islands and few nations have such a disproportionate ratio of ocean to land.  Each island has its own identity, strongly influenced by the differences in the landscape of each island.

My arrival at 2am (CI time) made me very thankful that I'd booked at The Islander Hotel because it's directly across the street from the airport - you can't miss it, even if you're directionally challenged.  It was a bit overpriced in my opinion, but the location was incredibly convenient. Their morning breakfast was absolutely delicious - pancakes, eggs, bacon, three kinds of fresh tropical fruit, and muffins.  I wasn't able to get a hold of the office at Highland Paradise to book their cultural day tour, so I ended up walking into town (Avarua is a good 30 minute walk from the hotel) to browse.  There were so many things I wanted to buy, but my suitcase was already full and I didn't actually need any of it.  I managed to come away with two tshirts for my nephews (they're birthdays are coming up) and some postcards to send back to my friends in Hawera.

The churches in the Cook Islands are famous, and there are six in total on Rarotonga.   The Maori people quickly adopted Christianity once visited by London Missionary Society missionaries in the 1820's.  The resulting denomination is now known as CICC and visitors are encouraged to visit to hear the beautiful singing during church services.

Cook Islands Christian Church Avarua

I noticed the National Museum on the map and it didn't look too far away so I had so I decided to go visit and learn some more about the country.  The pieces and artwork they had in the museum were amazing - the people here are extremely creative, but since I couldn't take photos in the museum you'll have to take my word for it.  The Beachcomber Gallery had some lovely pieces, but they only allowed photos of the carvings:

The walk back felt like it took twice as long, but I did make it back.  The hotel book in my room mentioned loungers by the shore, which sounded perfect for reading a book.  Unfortunately, they only had tables and chairs by the Hula Bar with a view of the ocean.  I made it work and enjoyed the sunshine while waiting for evening to arrive.

The island buffet and cultural night was a phenomenal welcome dinner.  I had been assigned a table with a NZ family there on vacation, so at least I had some company and didn't feel segregated or alone.  We got to try several of their local cuisines: ika mata (raw fish marinated in lime & coconut), poke (cooked fruit pudding), and taro.  All of the food was excellent and their dances and drum music were fantastic!  Definitely puts you in the tropical-island-vacation state of mind.

So Long, Farewell

 Last Sunday, before church, Olya invited me to stop by her house the next afternoon for a cuppa and then after church she stopped me and invited me to lunch with her as her husband Andrew was out of town.  Between the two visits we had some very enjoyable conversations.  In case I didn't mention previously, her and her husband had been missionaries to Russia for several years (she is Russian and he is Kiwi), so we had a great chat about life in Russia for her growing up and even when they were serving on the field.  With a love of missions in common it was fascinating to get her take on the effects of all the "help" from America and New Zealand on the Russian church.  I was compelled, as I often am when speaking with people about missions, to recommend Steve Saint's book, "The Great Omission" to her.  I was halfway through reading Amor Towles novel, "A Gentleman In Moscow" - which is absolutely excellent - so it was fortuitous that we would have these conversations about Russia.  Because of the novel I had a much better, and perhaps fresher, understanding of all the changes in Russia over the 20th Century.

On Tuesday I had my last visit with the beautiful ladies at craft group.  They had a special morning tea with some scrumptious scones lovingly prepared by Valda,  Lesley, the master card maker, had handcrafted a card (which everyone signed), and Yvonne presented me with a delightful jade pendant in the koru design (which is also the logo of the church).  Pastor Paul had stopped by, as was his habit, so he gave a lovely blessing on me and the pendant (according to Margaret jade is to be blessed before it is given - I'd not heard that before, but Paul graciously wove that into his prayer at her request).  As I've said before, they're such a fun group of women and I will definitely miss them.

Gill and James were originally to return late Wednesday evening or mid-day Thursday.  When they didn't arrive Wednesday night I was glad because it meant I would get the chance to visit the Hospice Shop one last time and say farewell.  Everyone was so lovely.  Even though I didn't know that many of them very well that didn't stop them from expressing their thanks for my help.  It was a fitting last day volunteering, everyone was in good spirits and the banter back-and-forth was quite jolly; I love a good laugh.  With a beautiful card in hand, and their kind words to be sure and return some day, I gave some hugs and headed out to meet Val, Mike and Eileen.  Gill then called and said that they had not left Auckland and were just going to stay one more night but would definitely be home on Friday.

An affable couple, they even brought me home gifts from their trip!  As if loaning me their friends before leaving wasn't gift enough.  An exquisite purse from Morocco and a neat tea-towel from Wales (it has a bunch of Welsh recipes on it so I'm definitely going to give some of them a try) were very thoughtful, and thankfully light-weight.  They decided I also deserved a nice dinner out, so while catching up with Mike and Eileen over coffee Saturday morning we all decided on Indian food.  Since Val had just returned with her cat from the vet she didn't join us, but we did stop by her place before going to dinner.  She gifted me an attractive jade pendant in the "twist" design which symbolises the bond between two people, connecting the spirits of friends.  It was so incredibly thoughtful, and according to her you never give a gift of jade without wearing it first yourself (perhaps everyone has their own theories of jade, although everyone seems to agree that you are not to buy jade for yourself), so she assured me that she had worn it first.  Eileen then gave me a charming pair of diamante tear-drop earrings.  She has been such a blessing, letting me user her computer for my exams, stopping by for cups of coffee, inviting me to the cinema - she's a dear to be sure.  Dinner was perfect, the food was excellent, and the company amiable, and the conversation flowing easily. 

Not knowing what Gill and James had planned for Sunday, I took Valda up on her offer to pick me up for church this morning.  Thankfully Nigel warned me, when I greeted him upon arriving, that he was going to ask me up to the front during the service.  He presented me with a 2019 Taranaki calendar and thanked me for willingly joining in and helping out, whether singing with the music team, cleaning up after morning tea, or some-what willingly doing a duet for special music.  I assured them all that their open arms and warm welcoming made being willing to join in and be a part of their community a breeze.  Olya presented me with a necklace with the phrase "It is well with my soul", which I absolutely love, and Inge made me promise to keep in touch.  I assured her that if they ever made a visit to her Mom in Vermont she must let me know so I could meet up with them or they could come visit me.  As everyone kept asking if I would come back, I must admit that I might just have to come back.  Even though I've only been in Hawera for three months it feels as if I have more friends here than I had from all my time in Cairns.  In all fairness to Cairns, my friends there were as transient as I was, most of them being backpackers, so it's not fair to equate the two locales.  I joined Valda and Yvonne for a coffee after church, and when Valda eventually dropped me back at the house we ended up sitting in the car talking for nearly an hour.  So many sweet and caring people here...preparing to leave and saying goodbye can be so strange.  I've said it before - I'm not good at goodbyes.  As with packing a suitcase, for me the frequency only barely increases my corresponding proficiency. I suppose I must simply remind myself that I've been incredibly blessed with the variety of people here who have taken me into their lives and made it difficult to say 'farewell'.

Happy memories can't fit into a suitcase, but they're the lightest things to carry.

Tick-Tock

I'll admit that sometimes I operate in a state of denial.  Although the calendar has clearly shown that the month is almost over, I'm still almost pretending it's July that is coming to an end.  My time will soon be up and I will return to once again being a house guest instead of a house sitter.  I will once again pack up my suite case and get on a plane (flying doesn't bother me it's the repacking I don't properly appreciate).  How can the time have gone so quickly and yet I feel as if I've been here 6 months not 3?  As a few people have commented to recently, "you've found a community, as you always do".  I've just got my groove, a semi-routine, and things once again will change.  I alluded to my preparations for re-entry into Western PA life in a previous post, but they're certainly becoming more thought-consuming (when I'm not in denial, of course).  I still remember my re-entry struggles when returning from my semester abroad in Italy and from my year in Australia.  You cannot truly prepare yourself as you never know what will have changed in your absence.  Or, for that matter, what little things you might not have noticed had changed, had you been present.  As I prepare to sing at church tomorrow morning my thoughts definitely drift to my church in PA; the possible new faces, the lack of some of the old ones, a certain Sparkle no longer able to make surprise appearances in my pew.

An email from one of the big bosses at work earlier in the week didn't help my feelings of restlessness and uncertainty about returning.  The position to which I had sort of resigned myself to try, as it was the only option presented to me upon return, had apparently been offered to another candidate.  Now it seems they want me to go back to doing Logistics for the client I managed before my departure for Australia in 2013.  That piece of news certainly had me rethinking everything; at least my return to the US (I've still got 6 months on my visa) and my return to iDL.  Of course a look at my bank account quickly reminded me that six months without a job, and plenty of travel expenses, made having any job so quickly after returning home a blessing.  The ever-present struggle for contentment rears its ugly head again...

How should I fill my spare time when I return?  I shed all my responsibilities before striking out on this new path, do I take them all back up again?  As I think about the things which stir my heart, how do I put those God-given passions into use?  Not long ago I wrote about the burden for refugees, and although I'd done some quick internet searches a couple years ago I never went beyond that initial information gathering.  Pittsburgh has agencies that support immigrants and refugees, there's certainly no reason I couldn't potentially volunteer with them.  So my baby-step towards accountability is blogging I suppose.  When your thoughts stay in your head no one can call you on them or remind you that you've had no action on them.  We're all busy, but what do we have to show for our busyness?  I don't think I was incredibly idle or occupied with useless endeavours, but I think it is healthy to take an honest look at how you spend your time.  A clean break from everything has made contending with that "honest look" a bit easier for me as I make my re-entry.

The Thrill of Recognition

When it happened, I could not say.  Some time ago, quite possibly while living in Australia, a friend of mine recommended a novel to me.  My "To Be Read" list is quite long, and many of the books are not always available on Paperbackswap.com or at my local library, so some just stay on the list for quite some time.  Two weeks ago I was going through my list, searching the South Taranaki library catalogue, and not having much luck. It seemed most of the titles were not in their circulation.  But, as providence would have it, "The Thorn Birds" by Colleen McCullough was available at the Stratford library.  The back of the cover describes it as "the dramatic and colourful family saga of outback Australia", so I was a bit surprised when I started the first chapter and it was set in New Zealand.

Shearing sheep in Taranaki - Tawhiti Museum

On page six, while describing the area where they lived, it mentioned a Mount Egmont, which gave me pause.  I thought to myself, "Mt. Taranaki is in Egmont National Park.  I wonder if the European name for it is actually Mt. Egmont?"  Not much else was given, in terms of describing where they lived, until page fourty-one when my suspicions were confirmed while describing young Frank: "A small structure of pure power, at seventeen he had never been defeated in a fight and was already famous throughout the Taranaki peninsula."  You can be sure I was grinning when I read that sentence. A sergeant from Wanganui, the next biggest town south of Hawera, is mentioned as well!  I can't help but chuckle when I think that had I read the book while in Australia I'd have never remembered these town names when I moved here in May.

Tawhiti Museum, Taranaki

The story is split into several sections and the next section is set in outback NSW, in towns I have never heard of, nor visited.  I did visit an outback station on my trip to the Flinder's Ranges, and had been to Alice Springs, so there was a bit of recognition in that sense, but not quite the same thrill as those first parts about Taranaki.  I suppose the biggest difference for me and someone who's never been Down Under is that I didn't have to use as much of my imagination while reading the descriptive landscape sections.  The vast distances, types of birds or gumtrees, even the "kangas" made sense to me.  Reading about the devastating bush fire they experience, with all the current wildfires in the news lately (whether in Greece, Portugal, Australia, Canada, or the U.S.), certainly struck a note.

When Meg & Luke move to Queensland in the next section of the book I again had that little grin when reading about places dear to my heart.  Their vacation to the Atherton Tablelands reminded me of my own lovely memories from a visit to Lake Eacham.  The scent of the molasses from the sugar cane fields and the constant humidity of FNQ that Meg disliked so much required no imagination on my part.  Memory served me far better than imagination ever could.

Overall, I enjoyed the book because it was unpredictable.  Not in an obnoxious way, but in the way that life itself is unpredictable.  Things happen, people make choices and have to live with the far-reaching and sometimes unimaginable consequences, you just never know how things will turn out.  I'm near the end of the book now and this sentence absolutely resonated with me:  "And whether they came home again or not, they would belong neither here nor there, for they would have lived on two continents and sampled two different ways of life."

Fossil Coast B&B

Rainbow Trout

On Thursday, while volunteering at the hospice shop, Lauren asked if I had been out to Yarrow's Bakeries.  I told her that I had, but she still asked if I wanted to go along, as she was picking up items for our morning tea.  She's about 21 I think, and she seemed keen for me to ride along.  When we got back, Allan asked me if I'd like to visit the trout hatchery with him.  He apologized that he'd not thought of it before, as he'd only just come back from feeding them a few minutes earlier.  He's such a sweet man, and although trout aren't exactly my favorite animal I figured I might as well take the opportunity afforded me, as you never know what else you might stumble upon in the process.  I told him I'd meet him 9am Friday morning to go check it out.

It was a beautiful sunny day morning as we drove about 8 minutes across town and pulled into the Lowe Corporation parking lot.  While not exactly revolting, what they do there is a bit unpleasant, and not related to the trout, so I'll spare you the details.  Anyway, we signed in at the security desk and then drove around the back to a small barn that housed the trout.  I was surprised by how small it was, even more so once I found out how many fish they have currently.

The black-board diagram showing the layout and number of fish

There are nine guys who take turns, one week each, taking care of the fish. During his week, each morning Allan feeds the fish in the three outside tanks (which house the larger ones), and then every other day he cleans out the pools. 

The water and the tanks are rather dirty, so I really couldn't see any of the fish, even after he threw in some food for them.  Ever obliging, he got out the net to catch one so I could get a close-up:

Inside the barn he changes out the filters for the water they use (it is gravity-fed into the shed from the lake behind it) since it originates up near Mt. Taranaki and the creek-bed isn't rock, but silt.  He also checks the inside troughs where they have the baby trout. Until they lose their little yolk sacs attached under their bellies, which they live off, they can't swim.   Once they start to swim around the guys transfer them into bigger troughs inside until they grow their top fin.  If I remember correctly they nick part of that top fin before putting them into the outside troughs, that way once they're released into the rivers or lakes you can tell they've been raised in captivity.

Allan was born and raised in Hawera, and although he lived in Australia for awhile in his 20's he's been here in Hawera ever since.  He volunteers on Wednesday mornings with the local Riding for the Disabled Club at the A&P Showgrounds, so he took me over to show me that as well.  A&P stands for Agricultural & Pastoral, so it's basically their Farmshow Grounds.  If it's nice next week I might take Sam for a walk over there on Wednesday morning to see everyone in action.  We went back to his house and his wife Ruth was home from her morning walk so we sat in their sun room enjoying a cup of coffee and chatting.  When asked if I come from a big family I mentioned that my Dad is one of nine kids and oddly enough, he and Ruth are both 1 of 9 as well (and they're both the 5th child in the family).  Ruth's daughter's partner is an American guy from Ohio, but she couldn't remember where in Ohio... Anyway, it was a nice way to spend a morning. 

Small Town Tourist

My class is over, the month is now August, I'll soon be departing...better get busy "tourist-ing"!  I've been here 2 months now and still not actually done all that much in terms of the "Hawera Must-Do" list.  But today it was sunny and I had books to pick up at the library and I decided that I might as well climb the water tower.  The water tower is the opposite corner from the library and I'd already found a parking spot on main street to boot.

Source

Originally called 'Te Hawera' by the Maori people many years ago, which means "the burnt place", after a rivalry in which one tribe surprised the other in the dead of night and burned the village to the ground ensuring there were no survivors.  When the European settlers arrived the fires didn't stop.  "In 1884 a hotel was razed, in 1888 a large fire destroyed five businesses, and in 1912 a particularly disastrous fire destroyed a large proportion of the main street area. This last event resulted in insurance companies demanding better fire fighting capacity for the town." The 168 foot water tower was finished in 1914 and a month later an earthquake caused it to lean considerably.  Fortunately, they were able to almost entirely correct it, now it only leans by about 3 inches.  I might have to go up again some other day when Mt. Taranaki isn't covered by clouds...

Milan Restaurant, the building in the right-hand corner,
has excellent Indian food!

Where I get my groceries :)

Other expeditions I've made since arriving include an unplanned visit to the Hollard Gardens in Kaponga.  I'd been attempting to visit Dawson Falls, but as I was getting ready to drive the last 6km, with Sam in the back of the car, I was deterred by this ill-fated sign:

Note that under "No Dogs" it says "not even in your car"

I gave a big sigh.  I stared at the sign.  I took a picture of the sign.  I turned to look at Sam, and said, "Thanks a lot!", and promptly did a U-Turn. I had taken a detour, to fill the gas tank in the town of Eltham on our way there, so I was acutely aware of the expense of this wasted trip (I paid $7.68 per gallon).  As the GPS directed me back to Hawera, I saw the sign for the gardens and decided I was already here, I should pop in for a visit.  It was small, but nice despite the winter season, and it was free.  

Passing through the tiny town of Manaia, the old post office just begged for its photo to be taken, so I had to stop.  Since I'd already gone to the effort to get out of the car to get a picture I decided to check out a couple of the shops in town as well.  I'd noticed the large factory, but the name didn't mean anything to me so I ignored it.  While chatting with the proprietor of one of the shops she asked if I'd visited the bakery.  I'd told her I had not, and that I wasn't even aware there was one.  She then informed me that Yarrows is quite well known in New Zealand and their baked goods are delicious.  Maybe my ill-fated trip wasn't so ill-fated after all?  According to their website they produce "a wide range of world-class frozen bakery products supplying major wholesale and foodservice customers in New Zealand, Australia and throughout much of Asia."  Since it was near closing time all the items in the shop were on sale, buy 2 get 1 free.  The croissant and danish were the best I have tasted in a very long time.  When I mentioned to the ladies at craft that I had been to the bakery they all had stories of stocking their freezers with bread and sweets from Yarrows...

As for Eltham, I'm not sure it has a claim to fame, but I did find this lovely mural...

Peaches & Peace

I'm at the point now where I'm back with feet in two worlds.  As when I was preparing to depart, I'm now thinking about preparing to go to one place and what I want to do before I leave another.  Not all big decisions, just something that's in the back of your mind all the time.  I bought my plane ticket home.  I've mostly planned my "summer vacation" to the South Pacific.  I'm making plans to return to work, etc.  People at church this morning (my first Sunday singing with the music team) were asking how much longer I'll be here in Hawera.  When Eileen, Val, and I were at the movies yesterday they were making plans for a Girls Night once Gill gets back and before I leave.  Eileen joked about tying elastic to my ankle so I come back.  All these lovely people who have let me into their lives and included me, they make it hard to leave.

Am I ready to go home?  That is often the question, either asked by others or asked by me.  For once I can almost say yes.  Note the use of the world 'almost'.  Perhaps it's those persistent commitment issues, and perhaps it's just knowing the plan was to return in September all along.  I'm once again doing my best to be content.  There are times when I'm quite ready to return, I do miss my family and the stability/normalcy of life in PA.  There are other times when I think of the remaining 6 months on my visa, that I'll never get back, and I think I should stay.  Although I have seen the majority of the country there are still other places I would still enjoy visiting.  My return to work also created some anxiety, so that wasn't helping the contentment about returning.

When I was trying to decide if I should come to New Zealand at all, one of the big things holding me back was that I actually really enjoyed my job.  Having worked at the same company, in a few different positions over the years, it was nice to have a position I liked.  Then, when they decided to let me take a sabbatical, there was the tantalizing thought that perhaps I could have both.  I could move to NZ and still have my position when I returned.  It was unlikely, but not out of the realm of possibility.  Alas, after many emails, some miscommunication between the big boss and my boss...I can't have my position back.  As much as my boss and I would both like for me to have it back, the various people who took different tasks from me when I left are doing just fine with them.  On the bright side, I'm still trying to convince myself to view it that way, there is a position open that they would like me to take.  I'm grateful to have a position, and perhaps I'll enjoy it just as much, or more than, the one I had in shipping before I left.

"Trusting as the moments fly, trusting as the days go by, trusting Him, whate’er befall, trusting Jesus, that is all...  Singing if my way be clear, praying if the path be drear... While He leads I cannot fall... Trusting Jesus, that is all"

War

You might recall my mentioning of Inge in one of my previous posts (we met at church).  Anyway, her and her husband host a discussion group at their house every other Monday night.  They discuss various topics of interest to the group; made up of young and old, believers (new and old) and non-believers, and various nationalities, it's a neat collection of people.  The first week they were discussing animals.  Animal abuse, grass-fed cows, what does the Bible say about animals, do they go to heaven?  The ultimate question ended up being, "how far does our responsibility of care extend?"  Although we didn't end up with a concrete answer to the question, it was an interesting topic.  At the end of the evening they consulted their list of topics and decided on "war" for the next discussion.  Yes, we should most likely have narrowed it down a bit beforehand, but we didn't.

Source

With no specific question we planned to try to answer, I had my own preconceptions on what we'd discuss.  In between my classwork I did some research into conscientious objectors, Biblical stances on war, Baptist theology on war, etc.  In high school I had done a research paper on Alvin York and could still remember bits and pieces of his story.  Although most people today would be more familiar with Desmond T. Doss thanks to the recent release "Hacksaw Ridge", the story of Alvin York is just as fascinating, at least to me.  You can watch his story on youtube if you'd like (I just finished it myself).  Because of some recent events at my home church I've also become quite interested in what it meant, historically, to be Baptist.  I'm not sure if it's because I'm in a British Commonwealth country, but when I was googling the baptist stance on war I got a lot of results from UK Baptists.  An article titled, "Responding to war and the refugee crisis" by the Baptist Union of Great Britain was excellent, and convicting as well.

The discussion that night didn't exactly meet my expectations, but it was interesting to hear from everyone.  I will admit that I'm curious how differently it would have turned out if I, the only American, had not been there.  Comments were definitely made about how we seem to always be getting involved in, or starting, wars.  Despite feeling as if I was holding back the discussion a bit with my presence, I enjoyed hearing from Matthew and Inge about what life was like in Zimbabwe before they left (due to the unrest and political climate) and how they had sometimes wished someone would have stepped in to help their country. My understanding from the Kiwis present is that NZ doesn't have any sort of conscription registration; if a war were to break out that required more people to fight than are already serving they would pass a law requiring those eligible to register.

To add more fuel to the fire in my brain, a few of the books I've read recently all seemed to have an aspect of war to them as well.  Shortly after I arrived in Hawera I read a novel that "shows us Angolan independence through the eyes of a woman who has barricaded herself into her apartment".  Although fiction, it gave me a look into a recent war of which I had no knowledge.  So much of what happens on the African continent seems ignored in much of the history of the day, but then there's a whole lot of history to be learned.

Last week I finished a memoir about a Canadian women who travels to Iran to learn how to cook Persian food.  It made me want to go to Iran, despite her depictions of her experiences as a female in that society; the few tastes I've had of Persian food, made by my Iranian friend Hossein, were delicious.  Yesterday I finished "Hotel on the Corner of Bitter and Sweet", recommended to me a few months ago by a friend.  It's the story of a young Chinese boy and a young Japanese girl who become friends despite the prejudices of the Chinese and Japanese against each other, and in turn, the nation's prejudice against the Japanese (China was on the side of the Allies during WWII).  I'm no stranger to the topic of the Japanese interments, but it was still a tough book to read, at least for me.  A dark day in our nation's history when Executive Order 9201 was signed allowing our government to "relocate" its own citizens based on their ancestry.  But this book really hit a nerve with its depictions of the reactions of not only the "white" Americans to the events, but even the Chinese people who felt it was "better them than us".  It's a strange dichotomy created by war.  With all the unrest in the Middle East and the refugee crisis, the distrust of Muslims, it all just makes me sad.  Sad that I don't do more about it...especially when you read an article like this one, about Christian immigrants.

Taranaki Antiques and Collectables

I wish I could blame my current inability to remember the topics on which I've already blogged on my current socialization with the over-65 crowd, but those who know me well know my memory problems were around long before my current friendship circle.  Part of the problem is the levels of communication.  I write occasional emails to my coworkers back home, I call home to my family once a week, post things on Facebook, and message people back home as well.  By the time all those things have happened I can't remember to whom, or when, I told certain things!

The auction on Sunday for the Hospice Shop was very enjoyable.  I arrived around 9:30am, as requested, but they didn't really have anything for me to do until the auction started.  Eileen had texted Saturday night that she wasn't sure if she was going to make it, she was feeling a bit under the weather.  But shortly after I arrived Val and Rita showed up!  I've met Rita at Val's various parties (she had an afternoon tea for her neighbor's birthday the other week and oh my goodness, she never does anything half-way; the foods were delicious), a few times now so it was fun to walk around the tables and check out the items up for auction with them.

There were some very cool things for sale and I could certainly have bought some things myself, but I don't have a lot of room in my suitcase so I didn't even get a number.  Some things went for just $10 and would have been cool mementos of my time here, but who needs more stuff? In the end I was busy the whole time anyway.

The lot of Maori Portraits by Lindauer (prints of his works, not originals)
were the highest bid items of the day, going for over $500.  I had thought
before the auction start that one of them might be a nice souvenir.
My Mom always said I have expensive tastes....

During the auction they had me on the "Vanna White" team, at least that's what I nicknamed us.  All the items were numbered and as each item went up for bid we were to hold it up so everyone could see the item currently on auction.  There were actually quite a few of us on the team, and although it didn't work out the way they explained beforehand that it should work out, we finally managed to get a system going.  Standing in front of a bunch of strangers holding up random items isn't exactly my environment to thrive, but the ladies kept me laughing through it all.    We would each get assigned lot numbers, and we just kept rotating through the line.  The ladies behind me got a kick of commenting that they were younger than me when we started getting assigned to the 70's and 80's numbers.  The event started at 11:30 and we got through the last item around 1:30.  We had such a large team because they didn't want anyone's arms to get tired, but most items weren't that large and were auctioned rather quickly.  Granted, that's the 29-year-old talking, not the opinion of the 78-year-old ladies with which I was working.  It was just nice to be part of a little community event, to be able to meet people that you can one day run into at the grocery store.  Yes, that may sound odd, but that's one of the ways I start to feel at home.  I still remember the first person I ran into at the grocery store while living in Cairns and feeling like I belonged, simply because I could have a quick chat with someone while shopping for eggs.


In other news, I got the car back today - looking good as new!  I'm quite thankful it was done in just 6 working days as the "courtesy car" they gave me didn't quite have enough room for Sam.  I had to be careful to make sure his tail was tucked in and he had his head over the seat before I closed the trunk.  Since he couldn't really move around in the back I had to leave him home when I would go out to craft, Monday discussion group, or volunteering at the shop - he was NOT appreciative.  Plus, I didn't have to pay the excess - just a $35 fee for the use of the courtesy car.  God is good.

P.S.  I did pass my Psychology class and did manage to keep my grade-point average.

Psyched for Psychology (to be over)

I just finished my last chapter in Experiencing Psychology!!  I'll study over the weekend and hopefully be able to take the final exam on Monday.  It feels like such a relief to not feel as if I must constantly have my nose in my textbook for fear of getting behind.  Anyway, as you might guess, the sections in which the roles of culture play a part in people's reactions, behaviours, and attitudes are my favourite.  Ever wonder why certain cultures value conformity, while others value individuality?  Apparently scientist have found that pathogens might help answer that question.  Granted, there are more factors involved than just germs:

 "Unique cooking traditions are often used to distinguish among cultures. In particular, some cultures are known for their fiery cuisine, while others feature blander foods...Thus, Damian Murray and Mark Schaller (2010) proposed that cultures favoring spicier foods would also be those that emerged in places with relatively more pathogens, a prediction they supported in a large-scale cross-cultural examination. Consider, too, that surviving in a world in which infectious agents are an ever-present threat might also mean curtailing those social behaviors through which diseases are more likely to spread. Interestingly, extraversion—a trait associated with outgoing sociable behavior—is lower in nations in which pathogen prevalence is high."  Experiencing Psychology, 3rd edition

Pretty neat, huh? 

I've also been thinking, after my last post with the Milo canister, about other ways I know I'm not still in the U.S.  Beside the accents, a lot of names are different here.  Nigel, Bryn, Declan, Bronwyn, Valda and some others I will not even attempt to spell.  Also, they say "tea" instead of dinner/supper.  I'm quite sure they got this from the Brits.  It can be a bit confusing when someone invites you over for "tea", but they actually mean an entire evening meal, not just a drink.  If they were inviting you over for just a drink they'd say "Would like to come over for a cuppa?"  Also, even the way people use cutlery here is different from Americans.  The Aussies and the Kiwis, unsurprisingly, take after the Brits in this regard as well.  While we are taught as children that you eat with your fork, and when necessary pick up your knife to cut your food and then replace the knife on your plate; here they eat with both utensils simultaneously.  While not as hard as learning to use chopsticks, I still find it difficult to emulate. 
Although it's now technically the middle of winter, it's been in the 50's for the last couple of weeks and the flowers are starting to come out.  I've been watching the daffodils grow in the park, where Sam gets his exercise; well, technically, we both get our exercise because he's not very good at returning the ball to me.  I'd still prefer a proper summer, but I certainly shouldn't complain about the winter I'm experiencing.

King Edward Park, Hawera

This past Sunday was "Bible Sunday" here in New Zealand, and Pastor Paul gave a neat little message on the importance of reading the Bible for all it's worth.  He compared our reading of the Bible to two of the 20th century's cooking inventions of which we're all quite familiar: microwaves and crock-pots.  We often want to microwave the scriptures.  Turn to a verse, read it and we're good for the day.  Or perhaps we just cherry-pick to find one quick verse which backs us up in our position on a topic.  In reality we should be treating our reading as a crock-pot, we should simmer in the Word and meditate on it (Ps. 1:2 and 119:97).

Life in Hawera

It seems my thoughts have been rather scattered a bit in regards to a blog post, so my apologies for the possible lack of thought-flow by the time I'm done writing this.  I was at the Hospice Shop on Thursday this week for my usual morning of volunteer cleaning and pricing.  I mostly worked by myself since several of the ladies were upstairs getting things ready for their yearly fundraising auction.  Throughout the year when they receive items that are antiques or could potentially be worth more than a regular op-shop customer might pay they store them until the next yearly auction.  Jax, one of the managers, asked me if I'd be interested in helping out this year, as it's on the 29th of this month.  It seems they have trouble getting the regular volunteers to help because of family obligations over the weekend.  In addition, many of the regular volunteers are in their 70's and 80's so it is quite tiring; Jax was very diplomatic about it, but since I'm young by comparison it would be helpful for her to have me there.  I have no idea what this entails, but I told her I'd be happy to help.  Who knows, it could be fun!  Everyone got together for a special coffee break, and these ladies are a hoot.  I only really know Margaret and Yvonne, but the banter around the table even had me cracking up.  I don't know how long they've all been working there together, but they're all so lovely.  One of the items I cleaned that reminded me that I'm "not in Kansas anymore" was a set of canisters for your beverages.

My view as I work

Tea, Milo, and Coffee - a trifecta of hot drinks

I took these video clips while watching one of the Maori TV channels the other day.  Thought you all might enjoy a glimpse into their culture and a chance to hear some of the language.

As far as my psychology class goes, I'm still enjoying some of the material, but the pace is definitely getting old.  On the plus side, I'm over halfway through the class so the end is in sight.  The most recent chapters were about Motivation, Emotion, and Personality, so that was far more interesting than the regions of the brain.  It was odd in the personality chapter, I recognized some of the names of the researchers and their testing methods from a book I read while in Christchurch, The Secret Life of Pronouns by James W. Pennebaker.  Although I'm sure it isn't everyone's cup of tea I found it to be incredibly fascinating.  A great mix of odd facts and ways of using language to understand people.

  As the title says, it focuses on pronouns and "examines how and why pronouns and other forgettable words reveal so much about us...At the heart of this book is the idea that our words leave indelible fingerprints of personality, our relationships and backgrounds, and even our plans for the future. "  One of the neat things about the book was that it has a website where you can find some of the tests mentioned; you can actually do them and test for yourself how analyzing word use gives clues about ourselves.  There's even a link to a website that allows you to enter a person's "Twitter handle" to "learn their emotions, social styles, and the ways they think" after it analyzers the things they tweet.

Also, here's a blurb from the textbook with a link for a test on your emotional intelligence if anyone's interested:

Recall that some psychologists believe that the ability to identify and regulate one's emotions is a kind of intelligence. Emotionally intelligent people are also thought to be better at reading the emotional expressions of others. Do a web search for emotional intelligence tests and take some online quizzes, or just try this one at http://greatergood.berkeley.edu/ei_quiz/. Do you think you are emotionally intelligent? Does your performance on the test seem to reflect your actual experience? What is your opinion of the test you tried? 

Freezer Roulette

Before their departure, James showed me a small chest freezer in the garage with various foods (mostly meat) and told me to eat it.  Most of it would be no good by the time they got back and would just end up thrown out.  While not exorbitant, meat is certainly not cheap here so I was quite grateful for this windfall.  Some of the items were still in their packages from the store, meaning I knew what it was, had a vague idea how old it was, and also how much there was (1 kg or 500g).  Quite a few of the items were not so finely packaged.  Wrapped in thin white bags, most not even sealed in any way, they were mystery meat.

I think this is frozen couscous, but it could be breaded chicken.
I'll figure it out eventually

 So I've taken to making a trip to the freezer, pulling out something, letting it thaw, and then trying to decipher what it could possibly be; based on my analysis I decide how you cook it.  It's been quite fascinating and has definitely sent me to the internet to search for recipes since we don't eat much lamb back home.  One day I was quite sure I'd thawed ground beef and decided to make hamburgers.  Once I smelled them cooking I knew instantly that it hadn't been beef, but lamb.  They tasted fine, so no harm, no foul.  Some items have been delightful surprises, such as frozen croissants that far surpass any croissant I've eaten in recent memory, but that's a story for another time.

Remember the dinner party last Friday, with the lamb shank?  Well, Val sent me home the bones off everyone's plates to feed to Sam.  Eileen warned me to be careful though, something about enzymes in lamb that can be life-threatening to your dog, that plus the fact that you're not to give dogs cooked bones because of all sorts of health problems it could cause.  All that to say, I fed Sam two of them before chickening out and deciding to use the rest of them to make bone broth.  Mind you, I've never made bone broth before, but the internet is a beautiful thing.  I found a few recipes and decided I'd just wing it.  It's hardly a science and one of the recipes mentioned using a slow cooker so I threw some stuff in the pot and left it cooking while I slept.  I srained everything the next morning and it tasted wonderful.  Success.

Ah, but now what to do with lamb broth?  Back to the interwebs...  Several Google searches later, and a trip to the freezer that produces what I'm quite confident is part of a previously roasted, half-eaten pork shoulder, I decide on Linsen Suppe (German Lentil Soup).  I still had some split, red lentils in the cupboard from my last last pot of soup (no recipe to that one either, which sadly means I can't replicate it), so it seemed like the perfect choice. As my younger brother can attest, I rarely follow recipes to the letter; I use them as loose guidelines and improvise as necessary.  Sometimes it works really well and sometimes not as well.  Despite his protests of my cooking style, he has admitted (of his own free will) that he never liked cheesecake until I started making them, so take that for what it's worth.  So, anyone care to hazard a guess on the outcome of my latest creation?

It's absolutely delicious, and since my opinion is the only one that counts seeing as I'm the only one eating it, the verdict stands.  As I help myself to seconds I'm slightly saddened by the realization that I'll never be able to replicate this soup.  Ah, well, that's the hazards of flying by the seat of your pants.

In other news, I had more guests book in this week.  There was no time-frame on their reservation to give me an idea of their estimated arrival (the booking was made online), and by 11pm that night I called it quits and went to bed.  They never did show up.  Anyway, I also had my first exam in my psychology class.  I took it Tuesday afternoon and when I woke up on Wednesday morning I saw an email from the teacher (to all the students) advising us that we were allowed to use our notes and our book when we take the test.  I think I did ok without the help, but the time difference is definitely a hindrance sometimes in online studying.  I still don't enjoy the studying and test-taking but the material is fascinating.  My younger brother took the same class, from the same professor, and told me that I shouldn't have any trouble.  Trouble I might have, but I will pass, and hopefully with an A.

Enjoy this chunk of "Experiencing Psychology" from the chapter I'm reading today:

Cultures vary in the ways they define intelligence. Most European Americans think of intelligence in terms of reasoning and thinking skills, but people in Kenya consider responsible participation in family and social life an integral part of intelligence. An intelligent person in Uganda is someone who knows what to do and follows through with appropriate action. Intelligence to the Iatmul people of Papua New Guinea involves the ability to remember the names of 10,000 to 20,000 clans. The residents of the widely dispersed Caroline Islands incorporate the talent of navigating by the stars into their definition of intelligence. Some cultures do not even have a word that refers to intelligence as most Westerners think of it. For instance, Mandarin Chinese has words for specific abilities, such as wisdom, but not one single word that means, essentially, being smart.

You can try out a culture-fair IQ test for yourself: http://psychologytoday.tests.psychtests.com/

One Month In Hawera

Is June over already?  Julying....

Well, I've now been here a month and feel as if I'm settled in pretty well.  My first week at church I met a lovely woman named Yvonne and before I left that Sunday she made sure to invite me to the Craft Group that meets on Tuesday mornings at the church.  I decided that since I enjoy crafty things and had no other plans that I should attend, even if it wasn't my demographic in terms of age.  The ladies are so lovely and made me feel right at home.  They're all retired and decided that they might as well get out of the house and do some crafting with other ladies than just sit at home.  They do a variety of things, often just bringing along whatever project they're working on, be it cross-stitch or knitting, one woman embroiders greeting cards.  Some weeks they make a craft together, so we made some lovey cards.  Yvonne, who is usually cross-stitching decided I needed something to do every week and brought in some New Zealand cross stitch patterns and is teaching me.  My mom is an amazing cross-stitch-er so I'm praying I inherited some of that so my project is worth keeping once I'm finished.

Yesterday at church, before prayer meeting, I was chatting with Inge.  She's a lovely Zimbabwean woman who I also met my very first week.  Her and her husband are farmers and moved from Zimbabwe to England maybe 12 years ago, and then from England moved here to NZ.  She's part of the music team, which for a small church (I'd guess they have about 50 people in attendance on Sundays) has a lot of people on it, in my opinion.  As most of you know, I tend to sing rather loudly when I sing, and it seems she heard me one week and decided I should join their music roster!  I know how nice it is to not have to be up front every single week, so, it would seem ,that at some point this month I'll be helping give some of the others a break.  Their musicians and singers aren't about to win any awards, but no one cares and I appreciate that.  They're not there to put on a show and most everyone is involved in their services in some way anyway throughout the month; it is a bit hard to explain without it seeming as if it's not an actual church service.  It feels like church, but in a relaxed way.

Yvonne and Margaret (another woman from craft group) both volunteer at the local Hospice Shop, a second-hand store where all the proceeds go towards those in need of hospice care and they asked their manager if it would be ok if I stopped by some mornings to volunteer as well.  Once again, they're mostly retired people, but it is nice to get out and meet people and do some good.  I basically just clean and tag the items (they're already sorted into boxes of a certain price) for someone else to put on a shelf.

Sam, of course, is good company while I'm at home.  Mike and Eileen, along with Val (all friends of the home-owners) are also wonderful people.  Val, the retired chef had a dinner party on Friday night and it was like a Thanksgiving dinner.  As a retired professional culinary professor, she does everything from scratch.  Her dinner rolls: amazing.  Lamb shank, mashed potatoes, and mixed veggies (kumara and beet root): perfectly paired.  Dessert?  Unbelievable and completely over the top.  Ice cream with cherries (home made of course), a cherry-almond torte, and custard.  She'd also made crepes suzette, but not a single one of use could possibly have eaten another bite...  I had stopped by for a chat sometime the week before and she'd just pulled shortbread cookies out of the oven.  I have a weakness for shortbread and she might have spoiled all shortbread cookies from here on out.  I wish I could have recorded our conversation about her training as a chef, it would have made an excellent blog post; she's an impressive woman.

The newest main project is a General Psychology class.  When I first got here I wasn't sure how I was going to fill all my time for three months so I decided to see what options I might have in terms of online classes at BC3.  Since it is summer in the northern hemisphere the school is currently having Fast Track summer courses.  I looked through my transcript and eventually found a class they were offering that I hadn't already taken (and still needed) that sounded interesting.  It has definitely been interesting so far, but has been a bit more time-consuming than I anticipated.  A regular semester crammed into 5 weeks is a bit intense and I am a bit paranoid about getting behind, what with the time difference and due dates, etc.. I'm enjoying all the "random facts" sprinkled throughout the textbook as examples of topics we are covering.  Here are a few:

 The neurotransmitter "Dopamine is related to the personality trait of extroversion (being outgoing and gregarious)..."  Someone at craft group erroneously commented that I'm so outgoing...perhaps solo-travel increases my dopamine levels, because I am definitely not outgoing.

"During World War II, B.F. Skinner trained pigeons to pilot missiles. Although top navy officials just could not accept pigeons piloting their missiles in a war, Skinner congratulated himself on the degree of control he was able to exercise over the pigeons."

"Individuals from Western cultures are more likely to attend to objects in the foreground of scenes (or focal objects), while East Asians looking at the same scenes are more likely to notice aspects of the context. For example, in one study (Masuda & Nisbett, 2001), American and Japanese participants were shown video clips of underwater scenes. When asked to describe what they had seen, the Americans were more likely to talk about the colorful fish swimming around, and Japanese participants were more likely to talk about the locations of objects and aspects of the setting. Such differences have led psychologists to conclude that Westerners take a more analytical orientation, while Asians are more likely to see the big picture. Culture also influences the kinds of stimuli that are missed in inattentional blindness. Research on change blindness (the tendency to miss changes that have occurred in a scene) shows that when objects in the foreground change, Americans are more likely to notice, while Japanese are more likely to notice when changes occur in the context (Masuda & Nisbett, 2006)."

All quotations taken from "Experience Psychology" 3rd Edition

A Drive Down State Highway 43

While visiting the Church of the Good Shepherd, on my Wild Kiwi tour, I met a gentleman whose name I have since forgotten but his suggestions I did not.  In conversation I mentioned that I would be house sitting near New Plymouth.  He then proceeded to tell me of a "lost" highway which takes you through a town (at the time I couldn't understand the name he said) which has declared itself a separate nation from New Zealand.  I was even more intrigued when he told me that it is the only place in the island nation where you will find a road sign "welcoming" you to New Zealand.  I took note of his advice for later, and when I saw a sunny weather forecast for this Saturday I decided to put the dog in the car and head out on a little road trip.

Known as the "Forgotten World Highway" the entire drive is 3 hours, but I only did maybe a quarter of the 155km trail, which is New Zealand's oldest heritage trail.  According to the brochure it "follows ancient Maori trade routes and pioneering farm tracks through ambitious historic settlements, untamed native bush, and stunning natural scenery."  It was such a beautiful, sunny day for a drive and the scenery was top-notch.  As I headed out of Hawera, towards Stratford (the starting town for Highway 43), I had a perfect view of Mount Taranaki.  She's often covered in clouds, or partially hidden behind the clouds, but not this morning!

At Strathmore Saddle lookout, traditionally considered the start of the "back country", I could still see Mt. Taranaki in the distance.  According to the signs, east of there "the dairy farming of the volcanic ring plain and rolling hills and valleys changes to mainly sheep and beef cattle farming" and there had apparently been several plans to tunnel under this "saddle", but they never eventuated.

Strathmore Saddle, with Mt. Taranaki in the background;
the little white dots on the hillside are sheep.

With photo stops at the Pohokura and Whangamomona Saddles I was nearly to my destination.  The further I traveled the more the road seemed to curve and the tighter the curves became.  On one blind curve I saw a camper van coming around the corner, over the line and in my lane.  Because of the sharp bends I wasn't going very fast and I slammed on the brake pedal.  Had the other driver done the same I might have been able to back up far enough to prevent what happened next, but the driver didn't stop.  Time seemed to slow for a moment as I watched him finish coming around the bend, ever closer to the front of the car.  As I realized the vehicles would indeed meet I squeezed my eyes shut, as if not watching would make it not happen.  The woman in the car behind me stopped to assure me that there was nothing I could have done, "you stopped, but he was already in your lane".  My first car accident and it wasn't my car and wasn't my country.  Sam and I were fine, the damage was slight, and thecar was able to be driven.  I can't imagine how much a tow truck out of there would have cost so I had much for which to be thankful.  We exchanged information and headed our separate ways.

Not to be deterred we motored on along and finally saw the sign welcoming us to the Republic of Whangamomona.  The 'wh' in Maori is usually pronounced as an English 'f' sound.  The village was once a bustling frontier town with nearly 300 residents, but by the 1960's the numbers declined to around 20.  In 1989, after a dispute about the redrawing of regional council boundaries, the townspeople declared themselves a republic in protest.  They hold elections for president, but the eligibility rules are rather lenient; Billy Gumboot the Goat, Tai the Poodle, and perhaps the most famous: Murt "Murtle the Turtle" Kennard, have all served as president of the republic.  According to Wikipedia, "the local garage owner fought off strong competition from former president Kjestrup {human}and a cross-dresser called 'Miriam' to become the 4th President. He was re-elected in 2009 by one vote. He was re-elected again in 2011 by a landslide."

My brochure had another interesting fact for me to pass on: "Rugby fans might be keen to know that Whangamomona is the only club in NZ that is allowed to wear an all-black strip - as they had it well before NZ's All Blacks."  I stopped in the hotel for a coffee, and to browse the old photos and town history, before taking Sam for a walk along the train tracks to let him stretch his legs.  The drive back was just as beautiful, but thankfully didn't involve a run-in with a camper van.