Hello once again,

It is June now. What? What? And, once more, it is June in the Southern Hemisphere, so it is now winter. What? What? What have I been doing so far in June? BUYING COATS. It is so weird. Anyway, I have also been up to better things, like taking advantage of now living in the city, the city of Auckland (you are hopefully singing that in your head). Seriously, I have been running all around the city in search of entertainment. Here is what I have found.

Recap time:

Monday the 30th: I went on an exploratory mission to New Market, a city suburb of Auckland that is on the other side of where I live, so I don't really pass through it--ever. I went to New Market to watch a festival movie about performance artists who travel through Europe in a van and freak lots of people out...so basically the best Monday night viewing. I had heaps of time to kill before the movie since I went there straight after work, so I wandered the lit streets of New Market and gazed into closed fancy looking shops. I happened upon a small Japanese restaurant where I dined on some spicy soba noodles and got mistaken as a construction worker because of the hi-vis vest that I had attached to my backpack. Obviously the fun times were rolling. After I had finally convinced the waitress that I was not indeed a construction worker but merely someone who rode their bike around and needed to be seen (thanks to Aunt Cathy for the vest btw!), I hopped back out onto the exciting streets of New Market. And by exciting, I mean dark and abandoned. With my options for lit entertainment limited, I went to one of the TWO open bars, called the Cock and Bull. Teams of workers circled around tables getting ready for the impending pub quiz as I sat sipping the Dark Star brew. After the pub quiz started with three straight questions about the royal wedding, I took my leave to find more dimly lit pastures. Luckily, the movie was good, even though a woman came in late, sat near me, and snorted for a while. All in all, a pretty good Monday.

Tuesday 31st: I joined my coworkers for some drinks before we headed down to the premier screening of Odd Socks, a feature film made by our videographer we hire for work sometimes. It was a post apocalyptic musical about evil socks/ love story. Obviously it was awesome. Tuesday night win.

Wednesday 1st: I saw an advertisement on the University website about a free photography exhibit at the gallery that is connected to our school of fine arts. As I strolled through the door, I was handed a free beer, and met with a table full of nibbles like crackers, hummus, and a giant bowl of candy. And free art. This turned out to be the start of an amazing string of me accidentally wandering into art exhibitions on their opening night and getting handed more free beer/wine, sushi, etc. After this win, I checked out the free stand up comedy offerings at a local bar in Ponsonby. Mediocre best describes it. But, I did sit next to some guy who told me this long story about how he used to be an investment banker for a huge American firm, traveled all over on their money, then thought that he had become soul-less, quit, and now drives a truck that slows down traffic when larger trucks drive things over the Harbour bridge. Interesting.

Thursday 2nd: I went to an "Indie" concert at a small place called the Wine Cellar. As I sat there sipping feijoa cider in the atmospheric dim red indie lighting, a man who looked like a cross between an anamorphic snake and a zombie droned on about eating TWO lunches, one of which was Wendy's , the other chicken strips. This pretty much sums up Auckland's night life, which of course makes things interesting. This city seems to be a bizarre mix of people, and it is awesome to wander around and take it all in. Last night there was an impromptu circus performance at a bar that I was eating at. I bused by a church that said "This church is Prayer Conditioned." I stood next to a semi blind senior citizen with a guide dog who was buying polka dot tights and had punk hair and a nose ring. I got to sit in VIP seating and watch well oiled dance students perform cool Pacific Island dances. This city is pretty cool. Here are some pictures I took a couple of nights ago when I went for a wander around. I way trying to not use my flash, and I finally figured out ISO and etc. 'Til next time!

Call me a goat, 'cause I was sacrificial

Hello again. Since returning to work at the University, I have been thrust right back into the thick of things. My job has consisted of working at basketball games and helping to organize the University of Auckland's first poetry slam (at least in multiple years), complete with hiring a light up disco floor, because as you should know, nothing says poetry to me more than the pulsating glow of a light up disco floor. We had a great response from students who were keen to give slam poetry a go, and the event itself was an overwhelming success. I think we packed the venue out, with a nicely mixed crowd of over 300 people attending. On the night of the slam, my role was official time keeper, score counter, and....after talking to the professional slam poet Rives who was over for the Auckland Writers and Readers Festival and who kindly agreed to be our MC for the night, I was deemed to be the sacrificial poet. Well, for those of you who do not have a strong knowledge of what a sacrificial poet is in a slam, but you are picturing something else that is sacrificial, like a goat---you are not far off. Basically, it means that a poet gets up and does the first poem of the slam, and after the judges score them, the scores they receive are used as a base for scoring the later poets. Fine and dandy, right? EXCEPT, while I do enjoy writing songs and the odd rap, I am not a self professed poet, unlike EVERYONE ELSE in the slam. I had been threatened with the possibility of being the sacrifice earlier in the week, and had penned a feeble attempt that was mostly just pomp. But alas, Rives was insistent that there was a sacrifice, so at his and my coworker's insistence, I took one for the team and stepped up to the plate. I wrote a more honest attempt at a poem, because I figured that if I really had to do this, I should do it as well as I could and with some respect towards the art of slam. ANYWAY, I had to put my nerves aside, and delivered my poem that I had written an hour before in front of a packed 300 person room while standing on a light up disco floor. So really, it was probably a once in a lifetime experience. At the end of the event, almost all of the poets came down and thanked us for putting it on, and I think that slam poetry is going to become a strong developing art form on this University campus, which is really exciting. All of the poets were very talented, and I hope that I get to have a hand in organizing something like this again in the future.

Besides work, I have also been keeping myself busy for the last month searching for a room to rent in the city. Now, based on the amount of "room for rent" postings, you'd think that if I turned up, liked the room and people, and was willing to pay them each week to live there, we could make an easy deal. NOT SO. The renting market in Auckland is RIDICULOUS. I'd line up two or three places to go check out after work, bike over there, meet the people, and then be told that I'd get a text later that week. For each listing, there are probably at least 20 to 50 people that reply, a fact that became more apparent when I had to awkwardly stand in a hallway with five other people vying for the same room, all waiting to talk to the room renter. This Monday, after spending three weeks looking, I finally got my first glimmer of hope. After being incredibly lackluster about getting back to me,the guy who was letting one room basically led me to believe that I had gotten it, only to reply three hours later with the lame answer of "oh, well if the other person doesn't say that they want it by 8pm, i guess I can give it you." WHAT? I think that NSYNC said it best with "quit playing games with my heart." With my spirit slightly dampened with sadness and the dark rain from that evening, I cycled to first of another long string of rooms that I had lined up to view. The first one was a 20min ride from work, in a really nice area, and while it was slightly funky, the housemates were all awesome and introduced me to a new concept----actually being able to make a decision, in fact, instantly. "Sure, how about you move in this weekend?" YEEEEEEEEES! So I did. I now live right above a bay and if I walk for 5 min, I am surrounded by cafes, bars, and people. Now I am in the city, I don't have to waste hours commuting, I can go to things after 8pm, and my bike rides are better lit with street lights. Ah, hello Auckland!

Ok, o as far the pictures go, we have a good mix of a view from the top of that mountain in Queenstown I hiked up, some from wandering around Baldwin Street (the world's steepest residential street) and the Speight's Brewery tour in Dunedin, one of my new folding bike that I use while I am repairing the other one, and my new room, complete with two options of floor carpet, a neon mattress, and a nice shot of my decorative combo of a pink disco ball, tiger blanket, and a random picture of Mona Lisa that was already hanging on my wall. Til next time!

And now for some more

Hola. Also, holla (for you Pi house gang).

Wow, so turns out that if I ever had the ability to pass out and sleep in any condition presented to me as many of my similarly young cohorts seem to, I have officially lost it. Not a good thing to find out after staying in multiple people rooms or a tent that was blowing over for 2 weeks. Tired does not even begin to describe the cracked out state I was in. Exhausted does a better job.

I did in fact hike up that mountain that the gondola goes up in Queenstown. It was a surreal and slightly creepy hike, as the trail wound back and forth and then around the dark back of the mountain through giant rock outcrops and tourists zip lining above. At on point near the end of the trail, the course set you right through a dark pine forest where all of the dead pine needles proceeded to rain down on you in a pine needle blizzard. At the end, I was greeted with a cool view of the lake and the ear shattering screams of small children having fun bombing down the luge tracks. Ah, the peace of nature. Even though I tried to tire myself out with a mountain hike, I was still not able to grab the best shut eye that night...which might have something to do with two of my roommates rolling back in pretty late. It was ok though, because not sleeping again just led me to philosophize and do some deep thinking...which mostly ended up with me concluding that I in fact was not a huge fan of how my hosteling experience has been going so far and I didn't know how much longer I was going to string it out and keep paying $30 a night to NOT SLEEP because I always ended up sharing a room with complete idiots who not only lacked basic social graces, but I also some how always wound up on the top bunk. While some of you are surely reading this and thinking 'well, the top bunk is kind of fun. It's not so bad,' you are in fact wrong because the bunk beds you have slept on were probably built well, like hand crafted by the Amish, while the bunk beds I have been sleeping on were akin to someone duct taping two weak beds on top of each other. Actually, using duct tape would probably strengthen most of these flimsy stacks of insomnia. In each case, if either the person on the bottom or top bunk moved during the night at all, both parties would be shaken violently by the bed. I was sooooooooooo lose to snagging a bottom bunk in Invercargil before that elderly traveling lady came along. Really, the only way that I think I can sleeping in shaking bunk beds is with the assistance of sleep aids, like when you get your wisdom teeth out.

That morning was an early one, as I was taking an early bus to Dunedin and Angie was finally sky diving after being cancelled on three times. My new hostel in Dunedin was cozy but of COURSE I ended up on another top bunk, his time over a shy Japanese girl who liked to watch Anime loudly. Sweet. All of the good bits of the room were already taken up with mountains of stuff from the two girls who had been living in the room for months, so I made my way around Dunedin in a sleep deprived haze before I cemented my cool status to the lurking teenagers by crying on a public library bench. SO TIRED.

After getting a few hours of sleep (wew 4 hours!) I had a great day walking to and up Baldwin Street, the world's steepest residential street. The day got even better when I went on the Speights Brewery tour. Our tour guide was great, the tour was hokey, we had two massively tall Australian old guys in our group, and it concluded with each of us getting to pour our own glasses of 6 varieties of Speights brews. Don't worry, I managed to get all six in. This day was a day of serendipity that seems to run rampant in NZ. On the street corner before we got to Speights, Angie and I bumped into this girl form our 30 person bike class from UCSC who JUST HAPPENED to be standing on a street corner in Dunedin just as we walked past. WHAT!? ALso, one of the women in my hostel room turned out to be from Suffolk in England, which is where I was born and my Grandparents still reside. WHAT!? I think that this proves that NZ is actually not a country but really an episode of the Twilight Zone. People are happy here. They are friendly. The standard of living is pretty nice. Even the idiot who stole my bike parts probably did so as kindly as possible. I think soon I will be looking for the third eyeballs on the backs of their heads where they beam things to their alien leader and magicly transport themselves to random remote locations they know I will be passing through. In reality, after watching the NZ newscaster talk about Donald Trump challenging Obama's birth certificate and the fact that 25% of Americans still think that Obama was not born in the U.S., I think that I'd rather join whatever alien serendipitous force is at work in NZ over going back home to a circus.

The long and the short of it is that now I am safely back in Auckland and sorting things out. And now, for some pictures.

And so begin the travels once again! West side, yo.

Hello. It is bright and early on a brilliant Queenstown morning. Maybe a little too bright and early after last night's pub crawl...but time is a-wasting and I have a giant hill I want to climb after my laundry is done. Let's do a bit of catch up so far:




1. The day before my last day working for my temporary Uni job and my last day commuting with my bike, some idiot decided to cut my cable lock and steal both of my wheels, my seat, and cut all of my brake and shifting cables. Luckily, since I had my U-lock running through the frame of my bike, they were unable to make off with the most important bits, including my racks and fenders. Needless to say, I was gutted to get off of the train in Swanson in the dark rainy air of 7:15 pm to find that my mode of transport was well munted. Excuse the language, but what right bastards. Anyway, I hope that at least they used the money to buy a nice loaf of bread or a sparkly necklace for their Mom and not to buy drugs.




2. Right at the end of my last work day, I met up with my friend Angie and hit the city in search of some soul mending Mexican food on the way to my Kiwi friend Helen's 21st birthday party at this flash private bar The Gin Room that was the best party ever due to the fact that their was a giant platter of home-made meat balls AND an open bar! The meat balls and drinks (like the purple smurf) were accented nicely by the wealth of sparkles that covered everyone in line with the theme. I have no idea how, but even yesterday, after 2 weeks of camping and traveling, I am still finding some of my stuff covered in renegade sparkles.




3. The next day, Angie and I hopped on a plane to sunny Nelson, on the top of the South Island. We were hosted by her relatives and enjoyed great hospitality (plucking your own freshly harvested green lipped muscles from the bay 20 metres away from the house and cooking them up for lunch), some great kayaking around the bays, and undertook the coastal 54 km Abel Tasman track for 3 days. Sandflies, wading through slightly mistimed tidal crossings and finding brief footing on a muscle laden sand bar in the middle of an estuary, and being covered in a healthy amount of dew each morning made for adventures, especially when combined with the amazing beach views and a chance encounter with a gang of wild black goats.

4. After resting up from our multi-day tramp (hike, not the other kind) and letting the massive "6th toe" blister I developed go down a bit, we were off again. This time we snagged a car deal one way from Nelson to Queenstown. Fortunately, NZ is sane about most of the car rental ages for companies, so I was sweet to rent it as a 21 yr old. Unfortunately, the company we had to go with only rented to 21 yr old +, so I had to do all of the driving. We drove out of Nelson, through Murchison, stopped at a giant suspension bridge (my fave!), then camped. Little did we know that as luck would have it, almost every single night we camped NZ would decide to rain during at least the night. Oh NZ. I guess you have to stay all beautiful and lush some how. After packing up the tent in a haze of vicious sandflies, we drove to our first stop on the west coast of the South Island- the aptly named Westport, which Angie was convinced was a big town (its name WAS written larger than others on the map, but as we soon found out, that means nothing in NZ. In fact, I'm pretty sure that the cartographers intentionally mess with anyone brave enough to try to navigate around NZ). Westport was larger than a block, but not by much. To be fair, we did happen to roll into town right as torrential rain pour started, so it wasn't like we were greeted with singing unicorns basking in the glowing golden sun. Damn. Finding not too many reasons to stay around Westport, we pressed on to Greymouth (at least four blocks!), shot through Punakaki after taking in the "pancake rocks," stopped off in the three person town/ Bushman's Museum where you can normally eat possum pies (thank god I did last time, as this stop proved to be extremely disappointing in my possum pie eating quest) in Pukekura, picked up a nice French hitch hiker who we taught important English words like raccoon to, and holed up for the night in a hostel in Franz Josef. I was looking forward to conquering the glacier the next day, so even though we were faced with antisocial hostel goers and the deadest night life ever, I remained positive. After all, I love gearing up with crampons and kicking some ice packs.

5. Climbing Franz Josef glacier was awesome! Although it was less challenging as far as the hiking goes compared to Fox Glacier, this one has an ice hole you can climb through, and since I was the first person behind our glacier guide, I got the honor of helping her tighten the ice screws as we picked our way along some of the steeper areas. AWESOME! Also, the crampons you got to wear at Franz were way more boss than at Fox as they fit over your whole foot and not just the instep. EPIC! After our languid morning stroll on the glacier, we headed south to swing by Fox Glacier, stopping to pick up a set of hitching German girls along the way. We found out quickly that two backpackers carried as much luggage as we could cram into our car, but they were very nice and nodded their head politely as Angie played Tegan and Sara Tiesto remixes. (Funnily enough, we actually just bumped into these girls last night while on the pub crawl in Queenstown. Yes, NZ really is that small.) We camped in a cold and dark lake side/ creek side/ we could not for the life of us actually figure out where to put our tent campsite. Turned out that the morning offered beautiful lake views and a clear sunny day. Awww. Sweet as. Still somewhat happy with the caffeine buzz provided by the cold instant coffee we chugged, I put my foot to the pedal and we made dust. We were somewhat excited to stay in a hostel in Wanaka, a lake side town not too far from Queenstown. There were lights. Streets. Soap. People. Everything we craved and missed. The hostel we stayed in had its own bar attached, which seemed awesome until it quickly became apparent that no one cool was staying there and the novelty of hearing the bar staff singing karaoke to entice contests soon wore off as it droned on through our packed dorm floor.

6. I did not sleep at all. This fact made driving all of the way to the Catlins less fun. In the end it paid off though, because we camped in an amazingly tucked away beach side $3 campsite. I happily scampered off along the beach, jumping from rock to rock and marvelling over the size of the seaweed washed ashore. I set my course for a nice rock outcrop, and when my path narrowed, I was forced to choose between stable looking grass with GIGANTIC THREATENING LOOKING SPIDER WEBS or possible mud grass. Flashing to the scenario of getting slowly drained of life after being bitten by some mysterious NZ spider, I went with the second option, bounding merrily until my last step saw me land in above ankle covering mud/cow poo sludge. Don't worry though- I finally got to wash my pants after 4 days. Smelling a little bit like mud/ cow poo, we drove through the nature of the preserved Catlins, rolling through the southern most point on the South Island Slope Point, to Bluff ( the fake southern most point that has a nice sign where tourists take photos), to Invercargil, the largest town in the area. It has over 12,000 people. But tonight, it had 12,002. We scored a laid back hostel AND bottom bunks (YESSSSSS), only to have my brief triumph quashed by a super cool 70 traveling English woman rolling in to our room. Obviously I gave her my bottom bunk, especially since there were no ladders and she started talking about her hip. She was a wicked cool traveller who had been sleeping in her rental car when she could and climbing up muddy hill sides. Bad ass. Excited by another shot at NZ nightlife in a larger after camping again, Angie and I copied down addresses for the bars that the guide book recommended. Turns out that a Wednesday night in Invercargil at 9:00 pm is not at all cracking, and we were led to abandoned buildings and dark alley ways for two of the supposed three bars anyway. Luckily, the Irish bar Waxy O'Shea's was open and warm.

7. This blog post is the longest ever. But this is what you get. From Invercargil, we drove north to Te Anu, stopped to gander at the lake, book a boat ride on Milford Sound, and carried on to a cold Fiordland campsite off of the small highway from Te Anu to Milford. The next morning was actually promising to show us some blue sky for our boat ride, but in true Fiordland fashion, clouds and rain soon reared their heads. This, and the free coffee I took advantage of, filled me with enough energy and motivation to drive back through Te Anu and press on all the way to Queenstown, rolling in a night earlier than we had planned for. While we had made a booking for the rest of Easter weekend, we barely got a space in a dorm that Friday night, which also turned out to be Good Friday, when all of the liquor stores are closed and you can't buy a drink unless you get a full meal. Now I am not saying that I am dependant on alcohol, but I have found out through the course of my travel experiences that I have a better shot at sleeping in a room of 7 other people, 2 of which are going to snore, after having a beer. Unlike the hostel keeper who closed up the front desk for the night with keys in one hand and a half drained bottle of whiskey in the other, Angie and I were forced out to the streets, where we were soon convinced by an Irish guy to dine at a restaurant that was hosting a meal deal with a free drink. Finally, a sign of civilization. While we did get a beer, the rest of the night was filled with the thrilling experiences of me finally washing my smelly hiking boots and dousing them with some kind of tropical body spray Angie handed me (mmmmm, that was a good combo!) and then not sleeping at all again because the other two girls who we were sharing the room with some how turned on the heater and we slowly cooked.

8. We are still in Queenstown for another day or so, and our new hostel is big, but clean and damn well run. We returned the rental car after I had to master the art of parallel parking from the other side of a car on the busiest street in town, so taking a brake from driving is helping me relax. We blended in with the Queenstown crowd by joining in in the aforementioned Pub Crawl, and while Angie did some extreme adventuring stuff today, I did laundry and hiked up a mountain. And now we are caught up. Tomorrow I will add a bunch of photos.

Rafting, blood, formaldehyde, and loads of trains

Hello.
Fresh off of working at the Summer Series concert, I had to be one of the "testers" for our University raft test across the Auckland Harbour. We were in make or break territory, so we needed to give it our all. This time, we would have nine people in total, some with muscles of glory, and some with good senses of direction (except for me, as I was clearly an awesome mixture of both). Turns out that even with nine people and a rudder, we were still only able to forge 3/4 of the way across, mostly due to being pushed away from our goal by the currents. Damn currents. We seriously paddled for 3.5 hours, and 2 of those were spent trying to move forward with no success. If we had kept at it, all of us would have worn holes through our hands. I would like to note that when you are putting together YOUR volunteer raft team in the future, make the muscly people actually show you that they can use those guns, and they aren't just mounted above the mantle for a nice display. Before we had started, I was excited because we had two massive guys who looked like they'd be able to help us power through a river made of jello. Turns out that in practice, one was just massive (and made the raft almost cap size when he shifted sides) and the other one had massive guns that apparently could only fire a few weak rounds before he just sat there not paddling and was just dead muscly weight. Not impressed. We eventually had to be dragged out of the dead point we would have probably celebrated our 80th birthdays on, and were tossed close to the designated landing point under the bridge. Now, I had only been told of this "landing point," so in my mind, it was theoretical. Turns out that in real life, it was theoretical too, because we ran aground on stupidly placed underwater lava boulders (I mean come on, who left THOSE there!?) and all of the brave souls/ soles who had been smart enough to wear shoes that could be dipped into the salt water for over 5 seconds (so 3 people including me) were forced to jump raft and try to guide the monstrosity towards the sea wall with pure strength. Trying to avoid the novice's mistake of carbo loading before the paddle, I had only consumed a banana and stashed my lunch safely in the office fridge where I know that none of the nurses we share it with would ever dare to venture into my giant plastic bag with "Lucie" scrawled across the top in uneven serial killer writing. Turns out that being pretty hungry, tired, and having your legs all cramped up from being in a horrible position that left half of your but on fire (and not even numb like you wish) do not make a great combination for scurrying around submerged lava rock of doom, as I soon found out after I lost my footing and fell into the sea. This allowed my phone to test out how it would react to sea water while theoretically protected in a zip lock. Result: it dies and make a fizzling noise. Emerging from the sea a tired , bleeding hollow shell of a person, I stumbled back to the office carrying 8 life jackets after a hell of a taxi ride in rush hour city traffic. Really, all of this would have been a lot better of an experience had I been successful on my "I want to find a captain's hat" mission and if we had been listening to sea shanties the whole way across. I hear that those two things are responsible for the discovery of the new world.
Needles to say, I spent the next few days recovering from my sea dog day. After meeting up with some friends for dinner, I took the train back from the city to the hills with eyes that I live on (after my friend almost accidentally ran over my foot). What could have been just your run of the mill "9:30 pm depressing train ride commute" turned into something magical. And by magical I of course mean mysterious and disturbing. One stop into my journey home, I was joined in my seat bench by a small Asian women. Normal, right? Then, after a few seconds I was hit by an intense chemically smell. It smelled minty, but also like pine sol...and as I was racking my brain trying to place it, it was busy becoming more intense and starting to make my eyes water. HOW MYSTERIOUS! Well, it was mysterious until I finally realized that yes, I had in fact smelled that odour before....IN MY HUMAN ANATOMY LAB. This lady wreaked of formaldehyde. Ahhhhhhhhh. Images of the cadavers I had to learn from flashed through my head...which led me to then ponder what occupation this lady worked in where she would have to build up enough tolerance to the smell and then be able to greet others with it on the train. I am pretty sure that out of the whole train car of people, I was one of two who knew what that smell was. In conclusion, she probably works in a lab where they are creating a zombie army to overthrow the government...everywhere.
"My word Lucie, what other adventure could you possibly be enjoying on the train?" you asked with wide expectant eyes. Well, today was Saturday, which means it is the day that everyone who owns a car laughs at you, points, and yells "you suck" as you wait for the once every hour (if you're lucky) train to show up. This morning, I busted down the hill to the closest train station only to be greeted by the train turning up early and leaving as I hastily locked up my bike. Curses. After drowning my sorrows in a coffee and waiting for another hour gazing at the dirt hill opposite me, the next train arrives. Filled with a renewed sense of hope, I dash aboard and it back and relax...until after the train catches on fire at the second stop and we all get herded out. Curses. Luckily, after a few minutes an extremely vague announcement tells us that if we walk to this bus stop (and no, not the actual stop that a few people know about but actually that pole a couple blocks away) we will be picked up by taxis. Right. 40 plus people, some with kids in taxis? I followed the crowd to the pole, where a woman eagerly informed me that this happened to her last month, and it took the taxis over an hour to arrive. "Sod this." I trudged down the road to the next train station seeking a bus. Turns out that the only bus around was one that was going to take me on a nice tour of the surrounding suburbs for a half an hour before it finally dragged into the city. Fine. As long as we got there. Luckily that driver takes pity on me and gives me the child rate. Total time to get into the city: 3 hours. From the city, I hopped onto another train to go to a mall due East where a friend works in search of a good deal on a backpack. Scored that. Yes! But then, my eventual luck seemed to revert. My train back to the city was 20 min late, pushing me to sprint from that one to the next one, only to find that the next one was leaving ten minutes after the published time. Ha sweet. Relax. But then the number of people waiting to board the dark and shut train grew, and most of them started to shuffle their feet and groan. Ten minutes later, a bulbous train guy ambles done the line to inform us that the train is having a problem with its fuel. The train never moves, and I am informed that the next bus back home leaves in the same hour's time that the next train does. Curses. Score: Lucie: 1. Trains: -5768.
As I must head back to the city via a train tomorrow morning to work at a couple of crickets matches (and by work at I mean sit, read, picnic, and get bored...then repeat), I guess my luck with the trains can only improve. Hopefully. If not, then I might have to look into having a go at this rafting business a bit more seriously. Maybe if I could secure some zombies for crew mates....

Working for the weekend

After being cancelled last weekend just as I was shoving the very last heavy table into a packed van, Summer Series (a huge free outdoor concert all day in Albert Park) was rescheduled for Sunday. It was great to finally have it happen, since it has been quite the time getting all of the prep work sorted. All things said, it ran incredibly smoothly--well apart from the fact that the "compound" for the University that we had planned on being occupied by university students was quickly over run by gaggles of small children screaming, crashing, and wiping unknown sticky stuff onto our legs. Who would have thought that having games like "sack race," "egg in spoon race," "dress up in cardboard boxes and fight each other," and having a giant inflatable "Human Fly Wall" where you can bounce and throw yourself onto a giant Velcro wall while wearing a Velcro suit would lead to hordes of kids? I have to say that while you may not be too shocked, we had planned these activities for uni students, especially with the knowledge of the day long repeal of the liquor ban. At least later in the day we pulled in a small number of at least slightly drunk uni students to have a turn on the human fly. It was also awesome to score cheap as food courtesy of the MEAT club and the Harri Krishnas. But, most importantly of all, we were reminded of the fact that even the simplest thing can be turned into a toy that will amuse a child for hours-- as we saw when countless children ripped up our carefully placed string lanes or wandered off with cones on their heads. Actually, wait, no--more important--we were also reminded that while senior citizens appear to be nice and dear, they too have thieving tendencies and will slightly wander off with a giant inflatable chair. Also, small children will flock towards you to have themselves covered with free tattoos from the radio station and gladly accept their role of mini billboards for the day. So really, with all this learning, how was it not a university event after all?

Two weeks in...but don't call me a twoweeker

Hey hey hey. When I last left off, I was just delving into the world of full time employment again. A couple of weeks into it, I am know reminded that working full time unfortunately takes up most of your day time. BUT, it just so happens that my job is pretty awesome. Let me break it down:

1. I am splitting my time between trying to build a six person raft that will successfully navigate the Auckland harbour and working at rock music concert events put on by the University and our radio station. So, it could be much worse. I could be checking some one's data entry, like my friend had a dream about. Shivers.

2. I am commuting an hour each way into the city everyday. While just being able to roll out of bed would be nice, the fresh mountain air and peaceful trees of the hill I live on is breathtaking. I have a nice little routine down where I ride my bike 35 min down the mountain to the next neighboring town, then take the train into the city. Coming back, I bike UP the same hill, so I get the chance to unwind from the stresses of the day and occasionally mutter curses under my breath as I round another corner of the windy hill that refuses to end.

3. On my off days, I've been amusing myself by biking into the city. It's not too bad of a ride, only an hour and a half, or two back. Last Saturday I accidentally rode there and then was forced to ride back when all of the trains services had been stopped for the big rugby game in Mt. Eden stadium.

4. This last Friday was a big day at work. I spent my morning shuffling back and forth between setting up a resource fair, meeting the lumber guy with raft building supplies, moving 8 200 L giant barrels across the street, and promoting that evening's concert by doing all of this with a giant poster (that was not University approved) tapped onto my back. The fun thing I have been learning about moving large objects when people are around is that no matter how obvious it is that yes, in fact I am moving a large object and it would indeed be nice if you could not walk directly into my path, look at me confused, hesitate a bit, then walk very slowly towards me, it is going to play out that way EVERY SINGLE TIME.

That afternoon, my time was devoted to working at the concert. Part of job was to track down all of the bands and have them sign release forms so we could use their images etc. I learned that hunting rock stars is a tricky business. I eventually found most of them congregated around the buckets of beer they were supplied with (no surprises there). Since they were already signing stuff (and these were boring pieces of paper...) I also pulled out one of two custom made shirts that my co-worker had made with the awesome poster she had designed on it and got ALL of the bands to sign it. See picture. Most of the bands are up and coming, but to my surprise even the two headliners had never signed a shirt before. The Kids of 88 appreciated how the poster made one of their lips' look rather cherub like, while Zowie and I complimented each other on our brightly colored shoes. Also, Sam, one of the members of Computers Want Me Dead wins for having part of his signature be a drawing of a stinky hamburger.

Another part of my job was to go into the bar area with my co-worker and drink a beer so the concert goers would see people in there having a good time and then possibly more at home with the idea of parting with $5 for a plastic cup of Speights. For work? Done and done. And we made sure to repeat this action when necessary.

The day was long (7:20 am to 11:30pm), but was capped off in a very memorable way when two co-workers and I had to move a giant full horse sized fibre glass painted horse 50m into a building. Good way to end it.

6. I staggered towards my accommodation, my muscles heavy and my whole body feeling completely tired. My brain was a bit harder to call, because it was a bit less tired than my body after I had been supplied with a few free cokes. But, I had also tried to even that out with a few beers too. Hmmm. Upon letting my head hit my pillow, I was soon reminded of the fact that the room I was staying in was situated across the way from a venue that had another concert going in full swing. Damn. While I eventually drifted off to sleep out of sheer exhaustion, I was jolted out of my slumber at 5am by some guy standing below my window screaming expletives into a phone. From the side of the conversation/ shouting battle that I was privy to, it sounded like this other guy had dropped the ball...to the point that the guy below my window wanted to drop a wall on his head the next time they were unfortunate enough to work together. Ahh, the peaceful city morning.

7. This next week is full of two more big events: a battle of the band competition and another BIGGER all day concert in the giant park next to the campus. I'll be hard at work, but since most of the work will be music related, it should be more hard rock than hard work. (Ahha, and I will leave you with that groan inducing last thought.)