Reading is FUNdemental

I arrived in New Zealand a little less than two months ago, and in that time I've read twelve books. That's six books a month--not bad. Now, granted, for the first month, I didn't have a job, and thus did have a lot of spare time; however, I've had a M-F 8-5 for three weeks now and my pace hasn't slowed. I attribute that directly to the fact that my television consumption (aside from a few Super 14 rugby matches) has been precisely: nil. It's amazing how much time you can find when you aren't spending countless hours on your duff in front of the boob tube.

What's more, I've found I can now multi-read. I'd never before been able to pick up and start reading a new book if I still had one unfinished. But no longer. I'm reading four books at the moment: Heart of Darkness by Joseph Conrad; Xenophon--the story of the Greek general leading his 10,000-man mercenary army out the heart of the Persian Empire in 431 BC; The biography of John Lennon; and a book on bio dynamic wine making. It's just like pausing one program and changing channels.

I've always enjoyed reading, but the new voraciousness of my appetite for books has led me to discover one of the greatest places ever: ...the library! Okay, so I can't take credit for "discovering" the library, as if it were some long-lost and forgotten concept, but it was definitely a "re"-discovery for me. I haven't had a library card since I was probably twelve, but that's exactly what I was looking forward to all last week. I simply couldn't wait for Saturday to get my library card. You see the library closes at 5:00pm on weekdays, and I could never make it there after work in time to get one. You know, it's funny, but I never thought of going to the library when I lived in Dallas. Not ever. Never crossed my mind. Not once. If there was a particular book I wanted to read, where did I go? Barnes and Noble--to BUY it! What? Why did I do that? Paying for books seems like such a silly thing to do now that I've discovered, sorry, re-discovered the library.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I have four books to read.

Cheers!

Scattershooting

Scattershooting while wondering whatever happened to Peter Deloise. Some more random things I've been thinking about.

-The stars at night may be big and bright deep in the heart of Texas, but they seem to be much more plentiful deep in the heart of the highlands of Central Otago. Never have I seen more stars. Nor have I ever seen the Milky Way more clearly. Absolutely stunning. And speaking of stars, familiar constellations such as Orion, are upside down here--it's kinda weird.

-Do fingernails grow more quickly in the Southern Hemisphere? I've found that I need to clip them more frequently here.

-I heard this little nugget the other day: "It's all a matter of perspective. To an earthworm, digging in the garden is much more enjoyable than fishing."

-It's a funny thing about money. When I first got here, the price of things had no real intrinsic meaning to me. I was constantly trying to do the math--based on the current exchange rate with the US Dollar--to figure out what things were "worth." But even then, I found myself spending fairly indiscriminately. But now that I have an income (such as it is) in Kiwi Dollars, prices have a whole new (and very real) meaning to me. When you only make $12.50 an hour, all of a sudden that $11 for takeaway fish and chips and a Coca-Cola means something very real.

-We've been doing a lot of "bunch thinning" at the vineyard this week. Bunch thinning is when you remove smaller, less-ripe bunches from the vines so as to remove their energy drain from the plants so the already bigger and more-ripe bunches can get even more so. It's a very Spock-like philosophy: "The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few."

-I drove the vineyard truck for the first time today, and with a bed full of people... I stalled out. It was quite embarrassing, and I took a pretty good ribbing for it. I mean, I know how to drive a stick. I drove a stick for years. But in my defense, I've never had the shifter to my left. It took some getting used to. Thank goodness all the peddles were at least in the same relative position.

-"Would you fancy a cuppa tea?" I've come to really enjoy being asked that question because I've come to really enjoy drinking tea. "That would be lovely. Milk, one sugar, please." And it got me to wondering why the English custom of tea drinking never really caught on in America like it did in all the other lands colonized, or once ruled, by the Brits. It was that whole Boston Tea Party thing, wasn't it?

-Given my new-found respect for the price of goods, I bought the generic, store-brand Muesli (read, granola) cereal from the supermarket the other day. The store-brand name: "Sanitarium." Am I nuts, or is that a crazy name for breakfast cereal?

Cheers!

Home Sweet Home

Today is my 51st day in New Zealand and my 14th in Wanaka. And, as much as I've enjoyed my time, until today, I still felt like I was just visiting this place--and not really living here. Today was different.

Yesterday I answered an ad for a room to rent, took a look at the place, liked it, and paid my first two weeks rent in advance. I'm renting a good sized room, with a queen size bed (the first non twin I've slept on in NZ), in the home of a very nice lady named Paula. Also in the house is Paula's eleven year old daughter, Jahda, and two of the most lovable little kittens you've ever seen: Bubbles and Squeak. And come Wednesday, when Paula's 23 year old son, Jethro, moves to Wellington, his room will be filled by another lodger: Antonia, a young woman from Auckland who just moved to Wanaka for the upcoming ski season.

Paula has lived in Wanaka for almost eight years now and she tells me the longest she's gone in that time without at least one lodger is two weeks. As a result, she's got the 'make you feel at home' thing down pat. Last night she invited me to sit down with the family for a chicken dinner. It was SO much better than the tuna fish sandwiches or canned ravioli that have been my standard dinner fare for the last couple weeks. Tonight it's home-made pizza!

Today, for the first time in NZ, I woke up in a big bed. Today, for the first time in NZ, my clothes were folded and put away in a dresser or hanging in a closet rather than rolled up in a backpack. Today, for the first time in NZ, said backpack was nowhere in sight, having been stowed away in said closet the night before. Today, for the first time in NZ, I ran into to someone I knew at the grocery store. Today, for the first time in NZ, I bought toilet paper. Today, for the first time in NZ, I felt like I was home.

Cheers!

72nd Annual Wanaka A&P Show

That's "Agricultural & Pastoral" so you know. And it's kind of a big deal around these parts. A much-anticipated, all-day affair on the sport fields in the middle of town, the A&P show draws people from far and wide throughout Central Otago. Think county fair, writ large.

You've got all your latest and greatest tractors and other farm implements on display. You've got your sheep-shearing competition. You've got your equestrian dressage displays with all it's pageantry. You've got your prize-winning pumpkin proudly showing off it's blue ribbon beside the champion cucumber and the most regal rhubarb you've ever seen. You've got your fresh berry ice cream sundaes and even corny dogs (not Fletcher's, but not bad). You've got your grand parade of all the best bulls, sheep, alpacas, and llamas. You've got your dog trials, where the best sheep dogs from around the region showcase their abilities to usher a six-pack of woolly sheep through, around, and into several gates and pens. I was hoping beyond hope to see a James Cromwell-esque gentleman enter his trained porcine pet in the competition, but no dice.

However, the highlight of the afternoon was, without question, The Jack Russell Terrier Derby! The idea of the race is to lead the pack of pooches around a track by means of a dead rabbit dragged behind a horse and rider, with the first little JRT to cross the finish line taking the blue ribbon. The reality is far more chaotic, and heaps more entertaining. Picture if you will fifty or so little fuzzy balls of pure energy barely able to be restrained by their owners until the report of the starter's pistol signals the start of the "race." When the gun goes off, most, if not all, our little racers immediately dart toward our recently departed rabbit playing the lure, and it looks like we've got an actual race on our hands. That lasts all of two seconds. All the little Jacks, as a breed more than a little ADHD ("oh look, something shiny!") quickly lose interest in their supposed quarry, and any semblance of an organized race devolves at warp speed into a general melee of Jack Russell chaos. None of our tiny racers crossed the finish line so there was no winner this year--not an uncommon occurrence I understand. Greyhounds these are not. But good times were had by all.

The day was unfortunately slightly marred by a little technological tragedy. I had recently filled my digital camera's memory card to capacity, so before heading out this morning, I inserted a fresh one. When I tried to take my first shot of the day, my camera beeped and angrily displayed a message telling me "Memory Card Error--Card Locked." I have no idea what that means or how to fix it. So, a great day, filled with heaps of really fantastic pictures, will just have to be a great day filled with heaps of really fantastic memories. And you know...


..."That'll do, pig. That'll do."

Cheers!

Bonus points if you can point out precisely how many alliterations I used in this post.

Movin on up

For the past four weeks Rippon Vineyards has employed a number of temporary workers, like me, to prepare for the upcoming harvest. Those preparations will be done tomorrow, and for the next three weeks or so--until the actual harvest--the temps will not be needed. Some, may not even be asked back for harvest. Charlie, the boss lady, told me today that she not only wants me back for harvest but wants me to stay on during the entire interim between now and then so that she can train me up for a "position of responsibility" as she put it. Not too shabby, huh? I've only been working there for nine days and I've already been given a promotion!

I don't mean to toot my own horn (oh, who am I kidding? that's exactly what I mean to do) but I'm hand's down the hardest temp worker there. I'm absolute dynamite at net pulling, apparently--Ned told me so himself. And the fact that I've been able to somewhat motivate our lackadaisical German friend, Austen, may have something to do with Charlie taking a shine to me. Every morning Charlie assigns the two-person work teams their tasks. Every day the teams are shuffled up so that you work with someone new every day. Apart from Austen and me, that is. We've been teamed up for the past six work days pulling nets behind Ned's tractor. Charlie told me today that it's the only job that Austen is halfway competent at and motivated to do, and that he hasn't responded to any other pairing than with me, and that she greatly appreciated my taking him on day after day without complaint. She calls us the "six million dollar" team--think about it. Feels good to be recognized for hard work.

And now to answer a couple of questions I've received:

-Yes, there are a number of more efficient ways to secure the nets rather than "digging them in" as explained in an earlier post. For example, you could use tent stakes to secure them to the ground. Or, you could use little plastic clips to secure one bay of nets to it's neighbor, thus eliminating the need to secure any but the end rows to the ground. However, that's only half the story. What nets get put out must be taken in at some point. And that's where the digging in method earns it's stripes. A moderate tug is all that's needed to get the nets out from under the little piles of earth placed on top of them, so reeling the nets back in is a relative breeze. If you had to stop to collect thousands of little stakes or unhook thousands of little clips the job would take forever. So, you sacrifice a little bit of efficiency on the front end for heaps of it on the back end.

-I've been laying my head at night at the home of one of my coworkers: Amy. Last Wednesday Amy heard I was staying in a hostel but looking for a flat, and she offered her spare bedroom until I get sorted with a more permanent spot. She and her flatmate, a nice Irish fella named Sean Kelly (about as Irish a name as ever there was, huh?), are super nice and have made me feel quite at home. Funny note: I've been here for eight days now and the subject of a house key has never come up. Because the doors are never locked. Half of the time they're not even closed. You know, it's weird that that doesn't seem weird to me.

Cheers!

Four-legged friends

There's a whole pack of dogs running around the vineyard everyday. Thought I'd take a few moments to tell you about them.

Tank: Mutt. Tank is the unquestioned leader of the pack. And the resident rabbit killer. Any rabbit nearby better pray he doesn't find Tank barrelling after him, because if he does, it's lights out. Apropos of nothing, the "death squeak" a rabbit makes when in the jaws of a dog is not a sound I'd ever like to hear again.

Pippi: Mutt (but may have some greyhound in her). We see, Pippi during our morning handshakes then never again the rest of the day. She darts off at full sprint into the vines and she's gone.

Sweet Lou: Mutt. The ugliest dog I've ever seen, but true to her name, she's as sweet as sugar.

Diva: Jack Russell Terrier. At six months old, she's just a puppy, and the cutest thing you ever saw in your life. The vineyard, with acres and acres of space to run, heaps of birds and rabbits to chase, and plenty of playmates around (both two- and four-legged), must be Diva's idea of heaven.

Buddha: Jack Russell Terrier. Another good rabbit hunter, and Diva's most faithful playmate.

Flynn: Schnauzer. Poor, sweet Flynn. The senior citizen of the pack, Flynn is wholly unable to keep up with all the young whipper snappers. Most of the time he wanders around aimlessly with a rather confused look on his face. We all kind of think he's just a bit senile. But he's sweet.

It's kind of fun working in a place with these little characters running about.

Cheers!

Let's get ready to rumble!

Halfway through week two at Rippon Vineyards. It's amazing how quickly your body adapts to new working conditions. I've done about twice as much work these three days than the first three days last week (now that I know what I'm doing), yet I'm only half as tired. It seems I'd gotten quite soft sitting behind a desk for the last seven years, but a few more weeks of this and I'll be ready to wrestle my little brother once again. Let me explain: growing up, my brother and I wrestled all the time. We'd go at it til one of us gave in. I always won. Always. Until...one day I didn't. You see, my "little" brother is much bigger and much stronger than me. Once he beat me, and it became abundantly clear to all involved that he would beat me every time going forward, that was all she wrote for our wrestling matches. Who knows? Maybe the next time I see him, we might just re institute an old tradition.