Interesting Instructions

Hello again everyone.

So, Eileen asked what exactly I was doing in my vineyard work. It's a newly-planted vineyard, so we had to put up boxes to train the vines into growing up toward the trellis wires, not spread out on the ground like a bush. The vines are in rows of 200, and each worker worked alone on one row. We needed to do three things: "single" the vine, which meant to pluck off all but one shoot, the one that was growing the straightest upward; we had to assemble the training boxes, which were thick plastic sheets with little tabs that you folded over in an interlocking pattern; then we had to put the boxes on the vines and staple the top around the trellis wire. At first it wasn't too difficult, because there was no wind. You could assemble a bunch of boxes, lay them out at the foot of the vines and go from each one, singling and stapling. Then the wind picked up, which blows the boxes all over the vineyard and you have to chase them. So work slowed considerably as I went from vine to vine, assembling, singling, stapling at each one.

An assembly line, where some workers went down the rows and singled the vines, other workers assembled boxes and other workers placed and stapled the boxes would have been far quicker. At least I think it would be, anyway. Assembly lines seem to be designed to be efficient.

Also, they had a safety overview before we started working. It was a lot to take in all at once. They told us things I never would have thought about if they hadn't warned us to be careful about it. Like, for example, "always wear shoes in the vineyard" and "wash your hands before eating." Are these really things they have to tell people? WTF?!?

Today I'm going to rent some movies and get a pedicure. Excitement abounds in New Zealand, doesn't it?

Cheers,
Mare :)

Surrounded

Last night the town I'm currently staying in, Blenheim, held their annual Christmas festival. It involved brass band renditions of "La Vida Loca" (yes, the Ricky Martin song), people dancing with scarves in a circle and fireworks. The fireworks were nice. Not a huge display (it's a tiny town, so I wasn't expecting a New Yorkish display), but a nice little show. The weird part was that I was standing in a fairly large crowd of people (like 100 or so) and it was stony silence the entire show. A little kid was asking his mother what makes them catch on fire or something, but there was no oohing or awwwing. It was kind of weird.

There's an ad on television for a show on later tonight: Rick and Steve are the happiest gay couple around. What is THAT about? Is it a sitcom? A documentary?

Right now it's elf. I love elf. I'm watching it with a room full of foreigners. This is typical everywhere I go. They are all so different. There are some Asians talking, someone who sounds vaguely Russian/Czech or something and some Germans. Supposedly there's a Scottish person here. Not much in the way of conversational opportunities. :(

Today I got my first real NZ job (one that required a tax ID number and everything). I am not sure why they needed the tax information. It's hard to tax nothing. It was a speed-based pay scale, which is never a good prospect for me. The only thing I do quickly is being slow. So... after eight hours of work, without stopping for lunch because I was already so slow, I earned a whopping $70 or so. That's around $40 US. Before the 20 percent tax cut. :( I'm only going to do this for a few days. Nobody else is hiring so close to Christmas.

Anyway, I've gotta go. I just got the two-minute warning beep!

Cheers everyone!

Mare :)

The Menacing Scooter

So, I keep promising to write about what happens when I try to drive a scooter around a small, rainy island. I feel like the story's been built up too much with all the weeks of anticipation, but I'll still write about it.

I've always liked scooters/mopeds. They seem so fun and zippy. The kinds of vehicles that happy, smiling people use to whip around fabulous cities while wearing fantastic clothes. You know, like Audrey Hepburn and Gregory Peck during their Roman Holiday.

Look at their smiling, happy faces and fabulous clothes. You would hardly know she was a princess secretly on the loose and he a rogue reporter trying to get a story. They're on a Vespa! They have no cares in the world! 

Well, me with a Suzuki on Waiheke Island... we just don't have that sort of cinematic magic. We have more of an abusive relationship. I'd take Suzu lovingly out on the road for adventure and fun, but he just tossed me to the ground. I'd bandage my boo-boos, only for Suzu to do it again.

The relationship started out well (they always do...). We were a bit timid at first. I was afraid to make a mistake and get hurt, Suzu was afraid of being dismantled and destroyed. But after a

 few laps around the proverbial (or literal, in this case) parking lot, we set off for our first real adventure. 

We went to the beach. Look how cute Suzu was, so shiny and clean, relaxing next to a tree. Looking back now, I can see signs of the danger to come. The tiny, thin wheels. The duct tape along Suzu's side. The scratches and dings along the front. The rain clouds overhead. The mandatory helmet. I realize now that Suzu has a pattern of abuse. A few minor repairs and, boom, right back out there, luring unsuspecting tourists into a trap. 

But I didn't know this at the time. I was having fun. I was zipping around a fabulous island, getting lost in the experience (and the roads). I roamed. I didn't need a plan. I didn't need a map (mostly because maps are entirely useless in my hands).

Things started to go wrong when we stopped at a winery. Suzu didn't seem to care, even in the face of long, paint-chipping gravel driveways. We took it slow. Things seemed fine. We both agreed before we even started off that I wouldn't be drinking. I was just there to check out the vineyards, see how the tasting room staff worked. Take a break and some photos. 

We had barely arrived when Suzu made a friend, a Kymco named Kai (seriously, the scooter had a name). I noticed Kai as we drove in, thought Suzu might like it if I parked next to him. Kai knows the Roman Holiday lifestyle. Kai lives it, spending his time lazing about in the sun on the decks of a yacht, hanging around in exotic ports around the world. While Kai and Suzu rested, I talked with Kai's drivers, Ben and Kayt. We compared scooters. We all agreed that Kai -- bigger, flashier and more powerful -- was a better-looking scooter. I think Suzu got a little jealous. 

Mere moments after Ben and Kayt left, Suzu and I had our first real problems. It was a very confusing time in our relationship. I can't say that Suzu was completely at fault. I asked too much of Suzu. I moved too fast... toward a building with far too many windows and sliding glass doors. I knew that if I didn't act fast to save our burgeoning little relationship, there would be major, expensive, painful trouble. I panicked. I wavered. I lost my control, momentarily forgetting which side was the brake and which was the accelerator. 

I tried to save the moment, but Suzu just couldn't get a grip. We were on rocky ground. I tried to turn it around, head towards the safety and fun of the open, paved road. It was too late. I had to bail out. 

Suzu threw me to the ground. I broke my fall with my right hand and my left elbow. The heel of my palm was bleeding and sore, and my elbow scratched and scraped. My leg was tangled under the weight of Suzu's engine, my foot turned precariously at a very wrong angle. I shifted, freeing my foot, but Suzu landed again, hard, on my leg. I kicked him away and searched for help. The winery had closed, the employees were on their way home. I was able to attract someone's attention, though, and she took me in, cleaned me up. She warned me about the dangers of scooters like Suzu, how they tend to lose their grip and how there's nothing I can do to change it when it happens. Still, I had nowhere else to go. 

I went back to Suzu, who was dejected and hurt, still lying there on the ground. I picked Suzu up. I checked him out, made sure there was nothing missing or broken. I dusted him off. I promised not to forget the controls again. Suzu whined and stalled at first, but it wasn't long before we started up again. 

I was timid, though, afraid to push Suzu too far. I didn't move too fast this time. We got through the rough patch, then I decided to head to another beach. At this point, I needed some space, some time away from Suzu. I was no longer confident that we'd get through our relationship without someone getting hurt. I even moved all my possessions out of Suzu's under-seat storage. I didn't trust that Suzu could keep them safe, so I took them with me to the beach. 

Unfortunately, it was around this time that things turned dark. Black clouds filled the sky and the sun disappeared. Problems or not, I needed to go back to Suzu. I'd made a promise that morning that I would bring Suzu home safely. With the threat of rain, I knew the promise would be hard to keep, especially given the mistrust that I had built up. 

Things at this point are a bit of a blur. It was just the same thing over and over again. Literally. I was lost and unhappy, perhaps inattentive and impatient. We were ending up on the same path, again and again. An endless, giant circle. I was trying to find my way to the dump Suzu scooter shed, but the map was useless and there was nobody around to turn to for help. Things got very tense as the rain started to fall. I put on my expensive and brand-new rain jacket and wished for windshield wipers on my sunglasses.   

I was hungry, tired and soaking wet as we finally approached Suzu's home. I made a quick stop at a local store to pick up something to eat. I knew that after I dumped Suzu, I had a long ferry ride back to the mainland. I was not going anywhere for a while, so to speak, so I got a Snickers. I stashed it in Suzu's dashboard basket thing. We were barely on friendly terms at this point. All I wanted to do was to get away from Suzu. I wanted the safety and warmth of the ferry. I was meant to ride the waves, not the scooters. 

Suzu had enough. Enough of me, enough of the rain, enough of the pressure of trying to perform despite the problems and mistakes in our relationship. It was poetic justice, I guess, where we finally ended up. The scooter shed was in sight, the scooter shed manager waiting to take Suzu back. I thought we were going to end things rather amicably. I was wrong.

I turned into the parking lot, my much-anticipated final maneuver. I don't know if it was the rain, the road, the tires or the driving, but my glee was very short-lived. Suzu slipped out from under me. Suzu moved back toward the road, I hurtled forward toward the scooter shed. 

The Snickers was thrown free from the wreckage, not even a scratch or a wrinkle. I was not so lucky. I had no time to break my fall, really. Just enough to throw my hands out to protect my face. I landed hard on the pavement, sliding forward on my arms. Suzu wouldn't quite let me go, bouncing off my legs before settling back on them. 

I crawled free of Suzu and assessed the damage. The bandage on my hand had split in two. My wound was reopened and now filled with tiny pebbles. My elbows and forearms were aching, and my brand new, three-layer rainproof jacket had road rash and was torn in a few small places. My left knee and leg, which had taken the brunt of the fall and scooter weight, were especially painful. The possessions I'd re-stored in the underseat compartment were strewn about -- the lock had failed and the seat had flown open. The Snickers was a good five feet away, near a puddle. 

Suzu's duct tape was torn and there was perhaps another scratch or two, but there was minimal damage. I suppose it's because I broke the fall and prevented Suzu from fully crashing into the ground. Lucky Suzu. 

In the end, I walked Suzu back to the shed, fought back tears (of pain, not sadness) while signing the appropriate return paperwork and limped over to the ferry station. When I got back to the hostel, I realized my left knee was swollen to about twice the size of my right knee and I was already developing several bruises (including a weird bright red one on the top of my hand, which I am guessing was some sort of non-broken-skin scrape or something). 

Fortunately, though, I wasn't seriously hurt. My knee displayed a lovely array of colors over the next 10 days or so, and my shins and arms were full of bruises. The most annoying and painful injury was the little scrape on my palm, actually, but that's pretty much healed now. Just a little sensitive. 

I have no plans to see Suzu again. My dreams of Roman Holiday bliss have been shattered. 

Kiwi Hostel Reviews

So, I've spent pretty much all of my time in the last month or so living in hostels. If anyone wants to come on down, here's a quick review of where I've stayed and how I've liked them:

Freeman's B&B, Auckland: This was my first hostel, but it was really more of a B&B. I had my own private room, which was great. The place could use some updates (the kitchen is tiny and the range/oven are outdated), but overall I loved this place. It's things like free Internet and, even better, free in-room wireless. It was spotlessly cleaned every morning (like, workers on their hands and knees scrubbing floors clean... every day!). Plus, the owner is one of the hardest-working, most helpful people I've met since I got here. I can't say enough good things about her. 

Auckland International Backpackers: Unfortunately, I stayed longer in Auckland than I anticipated, so Freeman's was fully booked and I had to leave. I moved to this place for two nights. On the positive side, I had a double bed in a private room and free linens. On the bad side, the room reeked of gag-inducing gross floral/orange air freshener. I tried to open the windows, only to discover that the "window" was actually just a separation between my room and another room. There were blinds on the other side and the window was bolted shut. Finally, the showers were moldy and I am still unsure as to the cleanliness of the linens. I prefer to not think about it. 

Auckland Central Backpackers (ACB): Um... well, it had a bed for me (a bed with a thin, lumpy mattress). And there was a locker in the room so nobody would steal my stuff. And a large (but expensive) Internet lounge. That's about as positive as I can get. It was oppressively hot, there were no windows, we were packed into the dorm room like sardines and the bathrooms were grody. To the MAX.

Kiwi Paka, Waitomo: Great! Big four-bed dorm rooms with no bunks, bedside lights and a big lounge with a pool table (which I never used, but still). It was also very clean, had great kitchen facilities and an on-site restaurant with pretty good food. I had to pay for sheets and a blanket, though. And the door was really, really squeaky, and they all slammed shut. In the morning there were slamming doors all up and down the corridors. Fun!

Blarney's Rock, Rotorua: It was above a bar and restaurant (which I never stepped into, actually). It was clean. It was quiet. The beds were good. There was a big central lounge that you had to pass through to get to the rooms, so it was good for conversational opportunities. The managers (a couple) lived on-site... and the guy would spend his evenings and nights sitting in the back of the room, drinking beers. He suggested really random DVDs, like the Meredith Baxter-Birney 1980s movie-of-the-week about a murderous wife. When the movies were over, he'd turn on Maori-language news and pass out on the couch. He had "Black Pride" tattooed on his hands, among many other homemade-looking tattoos. He was nice and helpful (and did my laundry because we weren't allowed to do it ourselves, which was creepy), but it just seemed a little bit weird to me. 

The Windsor Lodge, Whakatane: Again, really clean place (except for the cockroaches in the kitchen). Modern, too. It was nice. It also had a big courtyard/bbq area in addition to a big lounge. It was nice having the open spaces because the dorm rooms were teeny tiny. The four-bed dorm room barely fit two sets of bunk beds, so add luggage and it's hard to move around. I can't imagine four people actually staying in those rooms. Pack light! 

Harborside? in Tauranga: I am not sure Harborside is this place's name, but it's right alongside the harbor on a very popular street. This place sucked. A Canadian girl who's been hitchhiking 

around NZ for two months said it was the worst place she'd been. It is the only place where Snow didn't get taken out of my backpack. They didn't provide sheets or anything, so I slept under my towel. The best part of this place was the carrot cake I got from the German girl who was in the same room. 

Wally's Backpackers, Napier: Totally awesome! There are two different houses and a cottage, so it was a bit confusing (i.e., I got lost trying to get back to the room -- totally sober, btw!). Very sociable place, with a big TV lounge and great patio that many of the guests used frequently. It seems like a lot of the people staying there are long-term residents, so people knew each other. I had a lot of fun here. The only weird bit was the number of couples making out in the public areas. Paw each other in private instead of on the couch while the rest of the room is trying to watch a movie! 

Kate's Place, Martinborough: Great place. It's a homestay rather than a hostel, which means that we're staying in the owner's house. She's great, there's free Internet and the kitchen has lots of spices and things you can use. The best part is the awesome beds with real mattresses (as opposed to the usual thin futon crap). And the fact I had a four-bed room all to myself! 

New Zealand is Weird

Hello again!

Well, New Zealand really isn't weird, but there are some things here that definitely are weird. Like, for example, the current fashion style for teenage boys. For one, they favor neon-tinged clothing. Usually white t-shirts with neon decorative details. That isn't so bad (though the 1985 flashbacks can be disturbing), but what is awful is the hair. I mean really, truly a terrible mistake that they will all regret in five years. 

In keeping with the 1980s theme, they seem to favor the mullet. This is bad enough on its own, but they've made it infinitely worse by fashioning it into a mowhawk. It's the mow-mullet. Often dyed with a variety of colors. Most prefer blonde, but many others choose one of many colors of the rainbow. I will try to take photos so you call all experience the horror for yourselves.

Another horror I've just discovered within the last few hours: apparently the slang for weed here is "tinney." Seriously. The dreadlocked backpackers staying in my current hostel were discussing among themselves texting someone to make sure they got their tinney tomorrow. After verifying that they were, indeed, discussing drugs, I revealed that my last name is Tinney. They were impressed that my last name is slang for intoxication all over the world (in England, where one of them is from, a "tinny" is a can of beer). 

Earlier today, they were discussing celebrities and their drug use. Apparently they aren't using the right kind of drugs. Then they told me all about this "really mystical" drug called DMT or something. It's something (a chemical, I guess) that we release when we sleep. "And lizards have heaps of it, too. They even develop a third eye to protect it, inside their skulls. It's really amazing." 

I'm leaving tomorrow. 

There's a giant Santa Claus on the side of a building in Auckland. It's three or four stories high, if not larger. It looks like it was made out of paper mache. By the blind chick from Lionel Richie's "Hello" video. In other words, mangled. Furthering this frightening appearance is the fact that it "beckons" the children. His index finger moves, gesturing all to come near. It looks like a giant, three-story child molester dressed up in a Santa costume. Apparently it also used to wink. WTF, New Zealand? 

I wish that were the only thing I've noticed that seems designed to terrify rather than delight children. The Christmas window display at the largest department store in Auckland, for example. Again, mangled elfin puppets that looked like they would scurry into your homes and steal your possessions and pets. And a Rudolph with half a face. I guess they ran out of paper mache before they could finish the snout, so they just put a mouth on it. I didn't even take a picture of it. I don't want to scare my readers.

On an entirely different topic, there are some new labor laws here in New Zealand. Apparently they are implementing a 90-day trial period for all employees. I saw the Labor Secretary or something discussing it on TV. "This will help employers. If a woman, for example, were to become pregnant during this trial period, the employers would be able to dismiss those sorts of people without being accused of sexual discrimination." Um, those sorts of people? Whether or not it's within the 90-day trial, isn't it still sexual discrimination? 

Oh, random story. Today I was going into town, planning to drive because it was pouring rain. Another girl at the hostel, from Hong Kong, was also going into town. She doesn't have a car, so I gave her a ride. In the car, she asked if I was from Germany. Now, I seem to have developed some Madonna-esque pseudo-accent resulting in everyone thinking I'm from Canada, but I definitely don't sound like a German! She explained by saying, "Oh! Sorry. It's just that you're all white, with the same hair color. You all look the same... I can't tell you all apart." To be fair, this country is crawling with Germans and I am a teeny bit German. So there you go.

Uh, let's see. I hate going to the grocery store because I don't know many of the brands and can't decide what to buy. I wonder, "Is this bread good? Do people like this one better? Should I go for the Pam's cheese or the other brand? Should I buy the Kraft peanut butter because it's a company that also exists in the states so they probably know what it should taste like? Why are there so many brands of jam?!? What in God's name is a capsicum?!?" 

The answer to the last one is green pepper. I discovered that when I tried to get green peppers on my Subway sandwich and was met with a blank stare. This was better than the time I was ordering a burrito and couldn't understand the heavily-accented burrito builder. She kept asking if I wanted a certain ingredient. I finally answered, "I don't know what that is. I'm sorry." The mystery ingredient: vegetables. Um, oops. I do know what those are. 

Well, that's enough randomness for now. Next: hostel reviews!

Quick Update

I have two minutes (I just got the two-minute beep warning), so I have to make this quick.



I'm having a good time, though I am wondering what the deal is with bananas and bacon as a topping for pancakes/waffles/other breakfast items.

I have tons to update with when I don't have two minutes -- I went Zorbing (rolling down a hill in a giant plastic ball filled with water), luging (rolling down a hill sitting on a little cart with steering), caving (which involved no rolling whatsoever, but there was crawling, floating down underground rivers with glowworms overhead and dropping into caves via ropes) and thermal activity exploring (which also involved no rolling, but lots of sulfuric acid that smelled like rotten eggs... awesome!). Tomorrow I think I am going to the mountains where Lord of the Rings was filmed, which means nothing to me because I haven't seen it. That's the plan anyway. Tonight... hanging out with some people I met at the hostel (who are going with me tomorrow... I'm driving them. With my trusty sidekick, Aussie Lee. Lee is also known as "Navman," my GPS system. Anyone who has ever waited for me while I wandered/drove around lost knows that this was a very good investment. I've still managed to get lost with Lee (though he was an annoying American woman's voice at the time), but that was because I entered in the slightly wrong address/Lee didn't have the street I was actually going to programmed into his system.

Anyway, I miss everyone and need everyone to send me their addresses (home, not email)... otherwise, no postcards for you!


Well, I've got to be rolling along now. Cheers everyone! Merry Christmas!

Love,
Mary-Colleen :)

My Address

Hello again everyone!

So, I've been asked for my address a few times so I thought I'd give it to you all. You can mail me things at the Work New Zealand program, and they will forward all my mail to my current address (assuming I ever get out of Auckland, that is!).

The only difficult part is when you write my name, make sure my last name is underlined (which I can't do on this blog post... I can only bold or italicize).

Mary-Colleen Tinney
c/o IEP-Work NZ
PO Box 1786
Shortland Street
Auckland
New Zealand

If you want to send me a package, use this address:
Mary-Colleen Tinney
Level 10
220 Queen Street
Auckland
New Zealand

Okay, I've gotta run... I'm trying to run a bunch of errands before I head down to the harbor and maybe get some work. Not wine industry stuff, but I have been well trained for it: menial labor. Being a daughter of Jackie, I certainly know how to clean! I will be sure no boat perimeter will be left uncleaned!

The boat's leaving soon, but they're possibly willing to pay me, plus room and board (food, laundry, etc.). Kayt is working it out for me... apparently in her free time from working, she's trying to start a recruitment agency. I'm a project. She's awesome! All of the people on the boat are awesome!

Cheers everyone! Miss you all!!

Mare :)