Goodbye Gemini, Hello Hubba Hubba

And so we returned back home. Or at least home for me. The sister and I have been away for the past couple weeks and it feels like a lifetime has been and gone since I last set foot in my home. She's been visiting from Canada. For Christmas. 5.5 weeks of awesomeness.

Our last two weeks was planned as an adventure exploring the famous Abel Tasman and surrounding area. Ferry booked, rental car organised and two packs crammed full of camping gear - we were set. I just didn't expect my tent to fall to pieces in the process.

Camping in daisy fields - British Columbia

I knew my tent was on it's last legs when I pulled it out to make sure it was ready to go for our holiday. It was the tent I had gotten years ago in Canada when I first starting doing backcountry camping. My first tent. It had all my first memories of heading off to the bush with nothing but the gear on my back. It got me across British Columbia - 7 weeks of just me and the Canadian wilderness as I walked from Banff to Vancouver.

When I knew I was to walk New Zealand, I had that tent shipped to Australia. I used it there while I lived at a local campground in Broome, WA. It was home for 2 months while I did final preparation work for Te Araroa Trail. And then I brought it to New Zealand.

The first major rain storm in New Zealand left me with the realization that my MEC Gemini 3-season tent had started to reach the end of it's life. It had lost all of it's waterproofing function and much like a bad rainjacket is useless in the wet, waking up in a puddle from water seeping up from the ground was even more annoying. At the time Alex and I were forced to fork over a few hundred to get a new tent for our adventure.

Since then my Canadian tent has sat waiting in storage. Waiting for the day that I would finally take it out again and invest a bit of time and money into re-waterproofing its fabric. A couple weeks ago that day finally arrived. I set it up during one of Wellington's glorious sunny days and got about spraying my tent with waterproofer. When it had fully dried, I took off the fly only to find that the velcro strips that had attached the fly to the tent poles had worn out their glue and popped off, falling to the ground like a tree loses its leaves. I tried to ignore the fact that my tent was literally starting to fall apart.

On it's last legs - note the tarp through the "window"

It was at our first campsite on route to Nelson that I began to accept that maybe my tent wouldn't last the next couple weeks, let alone another season of camping. As the sister and I set it up, I noticed that one of the windows had started to come away from the fly. It was just a simple piece of plastic glued to the fly of the tent in a triangle shape that allowed more light into the tent and the ability for me to spy on everything from the inside - but they had hung on for years. Until now. The gap between the piece of plastic and the fly mocked me as though the tent was daring me to try and fix it. We gave it our best shot - sort of.

A few minutes later and a lot of bandaides, plastic bags and sports tape later, we had resealed the window. Just as we posed for a photo to show our accomplishment for the day, the tape started to peel away. All we could do was compensate by adding a tarp to the mix and cross our fingers that if rain came that we wouldn't be washed away with the mess of it all.

By the time we got to the next campsite, both windows literally fell out of their holes. We attached the tarp under the fly, but each time the wind got strong, a corner would blow off its peg and flap against the tent.

I had no choice but to fork over the money for a new tent.

The new tent in all its glory

My purchase of the MSR Hubba Hubba tent has been something I have dreamed about for years. It has been a tent I have lusted after for as long as I can remember and I was finally in a position to not just need it, but also have the money to get it. And yet my excitement was tainted by the fact that my getting a new tent was because the old one had finished its days of providing me shelter while in the great outdoors.

Everything about my old tent is ingrained in my memory. It was one of the few possessions in my life that I truly feel sentimental about. Much like people feel about getting rid of their first car, first apartment, first love - I have felt that way about my blue and yellow tent. The nights I have spent sleeping there, hiding out from the rain or simply living my life because I was too cheap to get more structured accommodation are more than I can count.

The memories I have had in there - it was the tent that gave me the freedom to explore the backcountry. It was the tent that made me feel safe when it was dark, cold or the threat of wild animals was near. It was the tent that inspired me to take on the challenge of Te Araroa Trail. It featured in many of my travel photos and even in the promotional video done for walking New Zealand. It was the tent I carried on my back for weeks on end. It was my sanctuary. And now it is gone.

I threw my old one in the trash the day before we came back to Wellington and it was bittersweet. It was sad. And yet I felt a new thrill of hope and wonder for what will be with my new tent. At the very least I can rest assured that wherever it takes me I will stay dry without fear of any windows falling out.

Uprooting and Moving On

As Moving Day creeps closer (8 days and counting), I find myself full of reflection on a vast multitude of subjects within my head. One of which is how moving has become less of a physically stressful thing and more of an emotional one. Less am I worried about what goes in what box or if I have enough tape on hand or even who is going to help me move. Now I find myself increasingly more aware of how moving house feels much like I am a tree uprooting myself from the earth in order to try and re-grow somewhere else. It’s a bit painful. A bit exhausting. A bit as though I actually have to say “Goodbye” to a chapter in my life I am not quite sure I am finished writing. And this time I am simply moving a couple blocks away.

Through all my moving experiences, I have definitely honed my skills to a point where my I have learned a few things on what to do and what not to do. 

1. You can never start packing early enough. If you don’t need it in the next week or two – pack it. One less thing to worry about closer to the day. 
2. No matter how much moving supplies you think you need (boxes, bags, tape, etc), double it. It’s amazing how things seem to grow and multiple once you move them off the shelves and out of the cupboards. 
3. Do not pack all books in one box. Unless, of course, the boxes are really, really small. You will hate yourself on moving day when you have 20 of them to haul. 
4. Skip the newspapers and use your clothes and linen to protect items. I do this for a few reasons – one, you avoid the ridiculously annoying pile of crumpled newspaper at the end of moving day that has no place to go. Two, you actually use less boxes as the newspaper isn’t taking up room and three, I’ve never liked getting newspaper ink all over my hands. 
5. Save a bag to use as an “overnight” bag. Pack it last with what you would if you were going somewhere overnight. This saves the hassle of trying to find your toothbrush the night of moving day when you are so tired you can’t see straight. 
6. Hiring movers is more efficient than doing it yourself. They’re getting paid to haul your 20 boxes of books – save your arms the trouble and get the pros to do it. Plus, it avoids you having to drag your two friends over on their day off to help you with promises of pizza afterwards (during the time you really just want to kick everyone out and curl up in a ball in the corner and sleep for the next 2 days). 
7. It’s easier to start changing your address before you move than after. Avoid the missed mail or redirection fees from the post shop.

Anyway – that’s me. In these last few days of packing a few boxes every couple of days, I had the epiphany that it never really seems real until I take down pictures from the wall and take out the nails that held them up. There’s something about seeing the chipped paint and dark hole through the drywall that seems so final. So bare. So empty.

Those small holes are what bring back memories for me. They were the places I chose to hang things important to me. They were the last thing I did when I moved in – when all boxes were unpacked and it was time to officially put my stamp on my new home. The holes represented me making my mark – creating the environment I wanted with photos, mirrors, hooks and whatever else helped me personalize the space. To take the pictures off their hooks and nails out of the wall makes everything look naked and void. This place is no longer mine and never will be. It is time to say “Goodbye.”

Not Quite Home Sweet Home

The letter came today. Immigration declined my Residency Application. I wasn't sure if I should be surprised or not given the tell-tale sign of Immigration approving any visa by first notifying me via email had never come. Just the letter. A letter stating that I was unfit for Residency due to the work conditions of my employment.

Curling up in a ball on the floor near my front door and letting the tears fall, I notified all my close friends of my failed attempt at long term security within New Zealand. Shortly after I made the mental note that perhaps today will just be another page in a book on my life. For who knows what tomorrow will bring. But until tomorrow comes, frustrated does not even begin to describe how I am feeling right now. My nearly 3-year stay in New Zealand has led me to 5 Work Visa applications (one being a Working Holiday), 2 medical + police checks, 1 education assessment of qualifications and the now failed attempt to gain Residency. Total cost? Exactly $5376 - not including postage, cost of passport photos, a new passport, transportation costs, etc.

Now don't get me wrong, I don't blame Immigration for the choice that they've made. They were only following their rule book. I was just hoping that perhaps with me being in the grey area, they could make an exception to their rigidity of rules. Just once.

The financial stress of this process is only a small part of the weight on my shoulders. It's the emotional and mental stress that does me in. The waiting. The deadlines. The not knowing what the future holds. The having no control over where or how I live my life. The knowing from deep within my soul that I am where I am meant to be, yet not having the ultimate say on making that a reality.

When I finally peeled myself from the floor of my front entrance to do something with my evening (or what was left of it), I noticed my horoscope for the day:

You may yearn for the good old days, a simpler time that seems to have slipped through your fingers. But don't worry because there are areas of your life that are still in major transition now. The fun times aren't over just because a current situation demands intense focus. Concentrate on your feelings today, even if  they aren't as whimsical as you prefer. A new round of rewards will arrive sooner than you think.

As hopeful as that sounds, the way I figure it - if the "new round of rewards" don't come soon, I might have to move onto Plan B and get myself a nice Kiwi bloke so New Zealand might want to keep me around a while longer. It's either that or maybe a pot of gold to help me through perhaps another application for Residency.

Waiting for the Ball to Drop

It's taken me the entire weekend to finally be able to take a breather and wrap my head around all that has happened this week. Not a lot when has happened when I get down to it, but I've definitely felt everything kick into gear as I have started my new job this week.

All of a sudden the pressure has been on for me to be somewhere at some place at some time. Regardless of the weather, my mental state or how much money I have in my pocket - it's all just a matter of getting it done and though I am thrilled at my new job and everything I get to learn, there is a part of me that is sad to know that my freedom to do what I want when I want is slipping away. Particularly when it is pouring down with rain and I have to walk in it only to get to where I am going and have it stop.

Each day that goes past I am torn between jumping in with both feet and reminding myself that I still do not know what my future holds. Each day that goes by is a brilliant gift where I am allowed to stay here in New Zealand, but it only serves to increase my worry of what tomorrow might bring. For at the end of all my effort to make my life into everything I have ever dreamed it to be, Immigration holds the power to decide if I can continue on this journey or if I must start a new one.

There's something to be said about living each day as though it is your last, but there are aspects of that that are incredibly exhausting on the nerves. It becomes difficult to plan ahead - difficult to know if I should buy the bigger box of tea bags or if it will all be a waste of my time, money and effort should I have to leave it all behind. All I can do is hope that I hear a final answer soon. Tomorrow would be good. Yesterday would have been better.

In the meantime, I continue to try and push forward and plan for my future just the same. My Etsy store online - Paper Kite Creations - is coming along well and I even had my first sale this week (thanks Janelle!). Though my hours are now more limited for creating projects, I am still finding inspiration for new designs that I am excited about being able to create when I do have time.

Time keeps on ticking and one day blends into the next - at least my cats continue to find new ways to entertain themselves.

The Truth Will Set You Free

I think one of the most difficult things to do in life is to be honest with ourselves. It's easy to be honest with others, about things, in life - but with ourselves? All too often we tell ourselves things that aren't true. Small things. Big things. Things that change the way we see ourselves or even live our life.

In the past couple weeks I have been trying to do better on being honest  with myself, but it has meant a certain amount of pain. It has meant that things I have took at face value for so many years are suddenly not what I thought they were. It has meant that I have had to take a deep breath and seriously look at myself and decide if I really want to be the type of person I am - not who I thought I was.

This past week I had an incredibly humbling moment. I say humbling, but at the time it felt more humiliating than anything else. For the past few years I have made choices in my life that have resulted in a lifestyle that would just let me get by financially. Whether it was the job I chose, the apartment I wanted to rent, the groceries I spent my money on, the school I went do, the countries I travelled to - whatever it was, financially I have just gotten by. And in a lot of ways, that's okay - it's pretty great really.

Lately I have had to take a hard look at myself and realize that though money is something I don't much care for, all that I want to do in my life costs money - money I don't have. A while ago I had to be honest with myself and admit that I have a problem with credit cards -- it's not that they don't agree with me, it's that they agree too much. Over the past years I have managed to whittle away at my debt until I am officially now at a point that I no longer have credit cards (yay me).

But I am yet to be debt free. There's still money I owe for student loans and money I owe family. That's not where I had to be honest with myself this week. Having no job has thrown me face-to-face with the reality that I have never actually kept to any budget in my life. EVER. It seems ridiculous to me that that is a fact in my life now that I have admitted it to myself, but it's the truth. And having no job just made it that much more apparent. There was no safety net of knowing when my next paycheck would come in - no smokescreen to hide how I handled the money I did have. And the reality was that I hadn't a clue where my money went.

The past couple of months I have been religiously writing down everything I spend in a budget journal - right to the last penny. I've been that annoying person at the corner store asking the clerk to print me a receipt when there's a line of 10 people behind me. I've been the person that has an envelope of receipts and actually schedules time each week to go over my budget and every month I plan the next budget. It's been excruciatingly painful at times to walk away from purchases I normally wouldn't have taken a second thought at buying. It's been hard to focus my grocery budget on the cash I have in my hand rather than the fabulous meal I have been drooling about making for the past week. It's been difficult, but I've started to get the hang of it. But that's not what I had to be honest about with myself this week.

This week the moment came when a cheque from Canada didn't get processed like I thought it would this week. And I was stuck. This money was exactly the amount I needed to get me through to when I do actually get paid from my new job and now it wasn't coming. It could take up to a month for them to process it as it is an international cheque. I didn't have a month. I had barely a week to come up with the money needed for rent. And I had nothing.

And so I had to ask my family for temporary help - and though I know it was temporary until the cheque cleared, it was one of the most humbling and humiliating experiences of my life. It wasn't the asking that was difficult, it was the response I got. It was the realization that my financial and lifestyle choices over the years had left an imprint on my family's mind of the type of person I was. The type of person with financial problems. They type of person that might not be able to pay back the money borrowed. The type of person that had no safety net. It was the realization that my financial support was not just going to come from my mom, but also from my Grandma who is retired and my sister who is three years younger than I am.

THAT's when I had to get honest with myself this week. Yes, the money borrowed from my family was a temporary loan to help me while I wait for this cheque to clear, but the bigger picture is the reality that I knew from the depths of my soul that I never wanted to be thought of as "that person" ever again.

It would be easy to lie to myself and gloss over the situation I am in to say that I have a job and it's just a matter of being paid. It would be easy to say that my budget situation is getting better and that I shouldn't worry. It would be so easy to just brush off my current loan and say it's "only temporary," but the reality of it all is that this is just the last thing that has happened in a string of support from people in my life to help me "get by." And I no longer want to be that person. I never really realized I was that person - but I don't want any part of it. I no loner want to be just "getting by." I want to feel secure with where I am financially. I want to actually be reaching my financial goals and living my life based off of my priorities - not what happens to be on sale in the next store window.

Unemployed and Making the Most of It

Being unemployed does a funny thing to one's mindset on life. By all accounts I have been given a brilliant opportunity to start my life over and have a fresh beginning to whatever I want to become. But it's hard to think like that when the "fresh start" wasn't a planned one.

Wellington City

It's been over a month now since I've been employed and, sure, that's not terribly long in the world of unemployment, but it feels like an eternity since I had the sense of security a regular paycheck brings in. I have been in the position of not working before, but it has always been logically reasoned that I had more important things to focus on - childhood. School. Travelling. In-between there has been employment.

It has taken me this entire last month to come to a state of acceptance of my position in life right now. I have finally realized that this time is, in fact, a gift. A scary gift that I am not sure I ever really wanted, but it's there just the same. It's the gift of time for self-development. It's an opportunity to not just start a new life in a new city or with a new job (eventually), but it's a brilliant chance for me to re-build who it is that I want to be.

And that's just it - so often throughout my life I have contemplated the question of what my life would be like if I could be whoever it is I want to be. I've often wondered what my life would look like if I seriously took the time to look deep inside myself and clear out the cobwebs - find healing for past hurts and slowly build myself up to be whom I've always dreamed of being.

It's easy to travel the world and rebuild yourself to who you want to be, but the life of a traveller is entirely different to that of one living "real" life. Travelling is limited on responsibilities. Relationships are built quickly and intensely and then fade away just as fast into the sunset. The memories are great, but the longevity of that lifestyle is difficult to maintain unless one dreams of being a nomad for all of eternity.

With normal life - things are a bit difficult. There are bills to pay, societal expectations of what one should look like, consumerism pressure to purchase this and eat that, family gatherings, people and pets to care for, a community to belong to. With normal life one grows roots and that is difficult to change.

But what if one could change their roots? What if one could rebuild themselves from the ground up? I have finally clued in that this is a definite possibility for me - the only possibility really - and though it scares me incredibly with the uncertainty of my future, I am slightly excited about what this could mean.

Wellington Harbour

The past few weeks since I have moved to Wellington, things haven't been entirely peachy. I've been struggling with depressive thoughts, struggling with motivation to just get out of bed in the morning. Many days have been spent curled up under the covers as I watch re-runs of my favourite shows and movies. These days would be divided between days where I'd go to the library and spent hours sending out resumes to countless number of job opportunities. One by one the rejection letters are returned to me. By post. By email - it didn't matter, the answer was "We regret to inform you that you have not been selected for the next stage of our interview process." I began to wonder what was wrong with me. Maybe I needed to update my resume or cover letter. My multiple editions of each didn't make a difference in response and all I could do was start to surrender to the unknown universal power guiding my life.

The one interview I did have went really well - but it came with it's own set of drawbacks as I quickly realized that a good interview meant nothing. The process of interviews takes over a week or two for any employer and then there is the separate process of Police Checks and background checks which takes another couple of weeks. Even though my interview went well, there is no way of knowing if I got the job until nearly a month has past.

As I began to lose hope in everything, I started to reflect internally. If I couldn't control the external forces allowing me to earn a paycheck, I figured I might as well start to focus on what I could control. Me. I started  sifting through my various debilitating emotions and researching conditions comparable to what was going on in my life. I learned that I have a problem with emotional eating. I learned that I have a problem with impulse buying and bad money-management skills. I learned that when I am stressed and anxious, I chew the insides of my cheeks. I learned that though I have tried to live my life in the best possible way, there have been a horde of issues bubbling up inside that I have only dealt with by eating ridiculous amounts of food, spending money I don't have and chewing my cheeks. It all sounds a bit depressing really.

So with a bit of counselling and self-study, I started to pick away at the deeper issues in my life and learn how to heal from it all. It's been liberating and I finally got to this last week where I have been able to look up from the hole I feel I am in and start to see the light. I've started to see this no-job thing as a bit of a blessing and I intend to make the most of it.

Home sweet home

My biggest question is trying to figure out exactly what it is that I want out of life. And instead of dreaming about who it is I want to be, I am trying to go out there and be it. Because I want to be the person that smiles at people as I pass them on the street. Because I want to be the person that takes the time to volunteer for a cause I believe in. Because I want to be the person who donates blood on a regular basis. I want to be the person that remembers birthdays, anniversaries and other celebrations. I want to be the person who reaches out to my friends and family to connect with them on a regular basis. I want to be the person who is constantly learning and taking classes. I want to be in the best shape and health I can be. I want to be a positive change in this world no matter what I do or where I go.

And so here I am. Yesterday I found some tuition-free courses online I intend to take. Today I donated blood at the local clinic. Tomorrow I have an interview for a volunteer position.

The job will come.

Shifting North

To say it's been a while is a bit ridiculous. I wish I could also say that I hardly believe it's been six months, but that would be a lie. I've been avoiding this entry for some time now. I suppose it was an internal need to go underground for a while and be non-existent in the online world. Or maybe it was simply work commitments that left me lacking in the creative writing department. Or maybe I just got tired of sitting at the computer - whatever my excuse, I'm back. For now at least.

The last six months have both flown by and crawled like a snail. Work consumed nearly my ever move as I did the final preparations for the HSFC Art & Film Festival that occurred on January 14-20, 2013. It was maddening to try and sort out so many details all at once, all the while feeling bombarded with people wanting to do things, say things and be a general annoying distraction to my wanting to just get things done. And yet I did get it done. The event happened and was a brilliant success that made me proud. I had managed to do what many people deemed impossible and only gave me confidence to realize what I am capable in doing when it comes to my career.

That being said, amidst my love of Hanmer Springs, my work at the Hanmer Springs Forest Camp and dreams of sticking around for the next few years (or at least until my Residency Application is approved) - it became clear in the last couple of months that it was time to move on. And quickly so.

For all the things that I can not write here, I can say that I find it completely fascinating how a people interact in moments of stress and situations that threaten a complete breakdown of lifestyle. Everyone's true colours come out and it is quickly apparent who is trustworthy, who should be feared and who should be cut out from all aspects of life interaction forever. Through my most recent challenges of life I have learned who my real friends are and that sometimes standing up to do the right thing doesn't always mean that everyone else follows suit. Sometimes doing the right thing means life as it is known is changed forever.

And so my life has changed. For the better - I hope. My relocation to Wellington has been a quick process considering it involved me packing up my belongings and two cats, finding a suitable flat to rent (included a weekend to scout out some dismal possibilities), and get myself (and cats) to the North Island with the vehicle I don't own.

Five days ago I caught the bus to Christchurch to pick up a relocation campervan under my name. Thanks to this brilliant idea from Campbell, a relocation campervan would allow me to skip the hiring fee of a vehicle, skip the ferry charge and allow me to transport all my belongings to the North Island worry free. Seemed good in theory, but little did I know that I was in for a surprise that day.

I arrived at the Christchurch airport and contacted the rental company to get the shuttle to their location so I could pick up the vehicle. They said 15 minutes. I said no problem. I stood at the bus stop with no shelter in the cold wind with my broken hair straightener in hand (I planned to exchange it later on). 15 minutes went by. 30 minutes went by. At 45 minutes I called the company and asked where the shuttle was. They told me that it was coming "soon." And so I waited. After an hour had gone past (my fingers were blue from the cold), I called them again. They said the driver was on route and would be there in a minute. Another 15 minutes went by and I gave up, went and hopped in a cab and drove there. The drive took me 2 minutes. I could have walked there in the amount of time it took to stand and hope for someone to pick me up.

I briskly walked into the reception area of the rental company only to be faced with about 10 people standing there looking rather bleary. No one was talking. No one was smiling. No one was doing much of anything, including the one staff member who was staring at their computer screen. I quietly sat down and tried to calm my fuming nerves as I waited for my turn.

Eventually a staff member asked for my name and I told him. Turned out he was the shuttle driver and he exclaimed that he had had difficulty trying to find me at the airport. I told him that an hour waiting was ridiculous and I took a cab instead. He didn't laugh. Neither did I. He then informed me that there was no relocation vehicle ready to be picked up at this point in time. I asked him what he meant and he stated that there would be one later in the afternoon but he could not confirm when it would arrive. Maybe in 1 hour. Maybe in 4 hours. I was angry. I asked him how this could be when I was informed by the rental company upon booking the vehicle that I could arrive any time after 9 a.m. to pick up the vehicle. It was now noon and I could be waiting another 4 hours for a vehicle? He confirmed this. I then went on to question how this could be when they expected me to relocate the vehicle up to Auckland (they don't do drop offs in Wellington) in three days when I could be wasting my first day simply waiting for the vehicle. He shrugged his shoulders in response.

I managed to contact another rental company who needed a vehicle relocated. They booked me in and I cancelled with the first guys and started walking. The second company was back at the airport where I had started. I had spent $24 on a cab ride that was wasted as no I was circling back. Eventually I got sorted with them and was on my way. It was 3:30 p.m. I had wanted to be packed and leaving Hanmer Springs by that time. I was only just driving back.

Packing the vehicle was a mad rush with friends and then I was off. My brain had hardly enough time to process everything - the fact I was actually leaving Hanmer Springs - I just drove. Me in the front seat with two cats in their carriers. They were not particularly happy with me and Indie continued to try and get out of his box.

Travelling with cats was never something I had considered when I adopted them as my own and yet I was thrown into the situation because of circumstances. I was told to always keep them in a carrier - one each (I could only afford one and so Indie had a cardboard box) and every 1-2 hours to let them out to do their business. This meant that not only did I have the two cat carriers strapped in the front seat next to me, but I also had a litterbox on the floor. Perfect. Each time I stopped to let them out, it took twice as long to get them back in. Being stuck in a box was not their idea of fun and they protested in any way they could.

I made it to a rest stop near Picton by 11 p.m. and tried to sort out the front seat to sleep. It seemed ironic that I had a fully-equipped campervan to use at my disposal and yet I couldn't because it was jammed packed with all my stuff. And so sleeping in the front seat it was. With two cats roaming free.

Sleep was lost on me and I am not sure I really got much. By 4:30 a.m. I was up again to quickly change, brush teeth, pee in the bush and try to put the cats back in their carriers. Then we were off to the ferry. A few hours later I was driving off the ferry and on route to my new flat. And then I was there.

Unpacking the vehicle proved to be slightly more difficult than it was to pack it. Primarily because I was on my own, but also because my flat is only a short walk up a steep hill to get there. That and I couldn't find Kaeto. He had hidden somewhere in the vehicle while we were on the vehicle and I didn't find him in time to put him back in his carrier. This meant that each time I opened the door to grab the next box while unloading, I feared a black cat would come flying out as part of his great escape. But it never happened. As the vehicle slowly got emptied, I never once saw Kaeto. I continued to call his name and listen for a response and there was nothing. I started to think that maybe he had escaped when I had gotten back into the vehicle on the ferry as the ferry was the last time I had seen/heard him. Maybe I had lost him and he was still wondering that ferry - or worse - maybe someone had run him over when all the vehicles drove off it. My mind was rolling through all the possibilities.

It was when I was getting down to the last boxes that I spotted movement in the front seat. Kaeto had decided to appear from his hiding place - squished under the driver's seat. How he fit there, I have no idea. But I was just glad to see him again. He wasn't so happy to see me. The second our eyes locked he scooted his way back into his dark hole where I couldn't reach him.

It took till the very end where I managed to shift the front seat forward and drag Kaeto from his hiding spot. Once inside the flat both him and Indie took their time scouting out every possible nook and cranny. It didn't take very long as my flat is considerably smaller than the 2 bedroom house I lived in in Hanmer Springs, but I was glad to have a home. A home for all of us.

And so here I am - capital city of New Zealand and it's brilliant.

Up the Garden Path

Time has been flying along in its normal fashion these days. I've handed in my Work Visa Application - $270 + $350 Medical + $70 Police Certificate - just so that I might be able to stay in NZ long enough to get my Residency Application approved. And so it goes. The pile of paper on my desk indicating a pressing need to delve into my personal life and show I am who I say I am is haunting me. But I have to do it. Scrounging up a birth certificate and proof of each individual work experiences I've had in my life should be a hoot. Can't wait. Can't wait until it's all over and I can stop having a date of termination virtually stuck on my forehead.

As it stands, I've been preoccupying myself with other tasks - part procrastination - part distraction. Obsessing over the status of my boxes I posted to myself from Canada has become my new hobby. Current status? Still in the hands of some customs officer. Don't they realize that my 6 boxes being sent to the same address with bits and bobs so obscure even I don't remember what's in them are in no way suspicious? Fingers crossed I didn't accidently pack a piece of dirt in one of the boxes -- that's one sure way to never see my things again.

In my time of waiting for my power cord to my laptop and the second shipment of my published book, I have taken up planning my garden for this spring. Turns out to be a little bit more like going back to school than it does in picking up a new hobby. For some reason it seems relatively terrifying to have to learn how to grow something living that I will one day hopefully be able to eat than it does to pick up a crochet needle and design a cozy throw. Even still, I press on with the mere hope that perhaps I will somehow discover I have a green thumb hidden under all this nail polish and that the amount of work put into caring about the acidity level of my homemade raised flower beds will one day pay off.

So far - the plan is there - now it is just implementing it. Who was it that decided that gardening supplies should be so expensive? Who would have thought that a bag of dirt could cost so much. Go figure. Regardless, I am keeping up the hope that come summer time I will be well on my way to a year round veggie patch. Plus a couple of flowers thrown in there too.

I've started things off in the vain hope that I can somehow keep two indoor pots of herbs going. Parsley and Coriander have become my new plant babies, sitting up proud on my kitchen ledge in front of the window. Fingers crossed they manage to catch enough sunlight to continue growing. That and that I don't sporadically water them too much or too little, causing their immediate demise. I've recently been told that Coriander can be quite difficult to keep alive and so given that I have managed to not kill it in its last 9 days of living with me has been reassuring. At least more so than my reputation of somehow managing to kill my cactus plant as a child.

And so it goes - the rain appears to be settling in for the last part of winter here and I only hope this means good things for the garden I have yet to grow. Perhaps I can manage to convince a few people to grow things with me and then weeding won't seem so much a chore in the next few months.

Garden or no garden - Kaeto continues to walk around like the little black ninja that he is - even taking to following me down the main road for a kilometer before waiting 2hrs in the bush to walk me back home. Jess continues to be my running buddy - or at least when I finally get out of bed and am motivated to run in the rain. Again. But above it all, I still have to sort through my Residency Application. Who would have thought that trying to get into a country would be so demanding. Surely there will be points given for walking the length of the country right? Fingers crossed.

Take Various Vitamins

Take various vitamins. You never know what small mineral can eliminate the bottleneck to everlasting health.

~ Lululemon

There is something that is so sweet and pure about being able to shut out the world and seek comfort within one's one bubble of existence. Only thing is - I have forgotten how hard it is to do such a task when within a city of over a million people. So many sounds. So many smells. So many people - everywhere I go. Everything feels crowded and closing in. Covered in cement, this concrete city overwhelms me at every point I turn. And there is no escape - no quick getaway. 

Danielle and I in a photobooth

I did get away a few days ago - to head to Invermere with my Dad. It was absolutely brilliant to be amongst the mountains again - breathe the fresh air. But even Invermere was busy for a Sunday night. People had flocked there from Fairmont after the recent mudslide incident. Golfers checking into the hotel with dried mud on their pant legs. Everyone buzzy with excitement over their experience and near-miss in the nearby mountain village. Perfect.

It was perfect when we got to the base of Jumbo Pass for our hike the next day. Not a soul to be seen except for each other. This pass was something I had envisioned taking my dad on since I walked across BC three years ago and sat atop of the world overlooking the wilderness all around. And now it was time. Coming full circle, I was able to show my dad a bit of what it was that I did those years ago when I solo-hiked my way to Vancouver. Up the steep switchbacks. Over rocks and under fallen trees - we inched our way up the mountainside. I even managed to find a tree I had previously tied a piece of surveyor's tape to to help others find the trail as I had found myself in knee-deep snow with no sign of any other life at that point. This year it was dry, but the piece of tape still wriggled in the breeze. 

By the time we walked our way over stretches of snow that threatened to engulf us in order to reach Jumbo Hut at the top of the pass, things were looking pretty great. With a 360 degree view of all the glacier-covered mountains around, I immediately felt at home. There is something to be said about the mountains. The rich ruggedness that touches my soul in the deepest places and makes everything seem okay. But before I knew it, I had eaten my lunch and it was time for us to head back down. Down to civilization again. Down to "reality," as most would say. 

Dad & I at the top of Jumbo Pass

I had a great time climbing that pass and it only served to remind of all that Calgary is not. Yes - it is a great city. Yes - it does have a lot of parks to enjoy and things to do. And yes - it is relatively close to the mountains. But when I need to escape from it all, I find there is no where to really and truly breathe. It is concrete and people all around. I smell the car fumes. The fast food. The intensity of it all. 

For the second time since arriving in Calgary, I was able to scrounge a few hours of peace and quiet to myself and I found myself to completely enjoy every second of it. I shut the doors, turned off the phone and spent a few hours doing only what I wanted to do. Because I wanted to do it. 

And yet, I still felt trapped. Wanting to break free. Wanting to get away from it all. Physically. Emotionally. Mentally. This life is not for me and I have to continue to remind myself that it is no longer my life - my life has moved on and Calgary is just simply a temporary stopover. A stopover of visits into my past of who I used to be compared to who I am now. 

I have changed since being away - but not really. At the heart of who I am, I think I am still me. I have spent many years feeling as though I haven't quite fit in - that I haven't found my place in the world yet. It hasn't been until coming back to Calgary that I truly realized that this is no longer true. I have found a place I fit - it is just unfortunate that the place I have found is so far away from those I have loved for so much of my life. And yet I am still the happiest and most content that I have ever been. And that trumps all. Even vitamins.

Grandma & I enjoying our home cooked dinner

After being away for so many years, I have noticed a drastic harshness to North American culture that I always knew was there, but never really fully understood it until now. There is this constant need to feed off the greed integrated in society that even captures those who struggle to break free. Everywhere I go there are messages being thrown at me to tell me to buy things, try things, sell things, have things, trade things and everything in between. There are only about a million different ways to get healthy and yet few of them actually understand what health means. If one eats a balanced diet - vitamins are very rarely actually needed. Those that stock up on massive quantities of vitamins in order to "get healthy" are simply spending an exorbitant amount of money on their pee. 

I went to the Calgary Stampede a while back only to run across a man selling machines one stands on and straps a thick rubber band around their waist and then turns the machine on in order to have it vibrate around their body. This is meant to make one "get into shape." Apparently there is a market for it as there was a huge number of people lined up to try it out - I'm just not sure what happened to walking the dog. 

No one has time any more. Everyone is in a rush - even my vacation has become something of a stressful schedule as everyone has been vying for a spot within my schedule - something of which I have been keeping to with military precision. I have received a few terse messages from certain people who haven't been able to get a hold of me immediately on my temporary cell phone on the occasions that I have turned it off for a bit of peace and quiet or happen to be busy doing something else. Meeting someone else. 

It's all go, go, go with no break or relief from the intensity that city life brings. Even a casual drive around the city has brought upon exasperated comments from those driving with me towards the people in front of us, behind us or even beside us that aren't manoeuvring their vehicles up to the driver's standard. I have been constantly bombarded with the frustrated voices of those appalled at the new distracted driver's law. People here are no longer allowed to use their cell phone while driving - apparently some people find this to be annoying. I'd rather not die at the hand of someone texting while driving. 

City life is different and yet so much the same as what I remember. And it leaves me wanting to get away. There is so much that I have done while being here - so much I will do prior to leaving on my plane back to New Zealand - that I am grateful I had the opportunity to come. I have had a brilliant time catching up with so many people I have only been able to Skype for the past few years. But I also know that soon I will be back to my little place in the world and that thought sounds pretty good to me. 

Jealousy Works the Opposite Way

Jealousy works the opposite way you want it to.

~ Lululemon

Though I have been in Canada for 2 weeks now, it still feels as though I am Alice in Wonderland. Whether I have just jumped down the rabbit hole or have climbed my way up to the "real world," I haven't a clue. Part of me feels as though I am a foreigner of my own country where as another part feels as though I have never left. Maybe the last 3 years have all just been a dream and I have only now just woken up. Woken up to this concrete city of madness.

Calgary Stampede Parade 2012

Gone are the days when I roll out of bed and feed the cat and then run with the dog. Now it is just me. Gone are the days when I look out the window to see mountains on my back doorstep. Now I look out to face the  neighbouring houses with their rubbish bins lining the back fence. Gone are the days of making all my meals and freezing leftovers. Now I find I am constantly eating out at various chain restaurants - filling my time catching up with those I have only seen in Facebook photos for the past few years.

Don't get me wrong - it's been great to catch up with people, even if half the time I feel as though I am something of a show-&-tell item for others to gawk at and pass around like a novelty toy. Yes, I have been gone for 3 years. Yes, I have a bit of a strange accent now. Yes, I love NZ and will be going back there. And yes, it's absolutely positively fantastic to get to see everyone again. 

Me with the Grandparents in Innisfail

Much has thrown me off about living in Calgary again. Most of it is vaguely familiar, but a lot has been thrown at me, causing a significant amount of culture shock. Here everything is open early morning and late into the night. No more do I have to rush to the store prior to 6pm in order to get what I need for the next day. Here I can get whatever I want when I want - and then some. No more do I have to settle for the next best thing. Here I am constantly bombarded with people. People all around. It's become a game to see if I can get someone to smile at me - bonus points if they actually respond to my "hellos." Everyone is busy - busy coming. Busy going. Busy doing something so incredibly important that there is no time to just be and enjoy. The cars move fast. People honk angrily at each other. The madness of city life surrounds me and every so often I have to take a step back, close my eyes and just breathe. 

My schedule has filled up to the point where it's difficult to find time for myself. To go from living in my own house in the middle of a forest - part of a town with a population of 1000 to a house with my dad in a city of a million. Things have felt a little crazy to say the least. 

Rocky Mountains

Even still, I have been able to get a lot sorted. My book, One Step at a Time, has gone through all the final publication steps and should be showing up at my door any day. I have been stockpiling on mascara as though it's going out of style and I even managed to get an incredible deal on some climbing gear. There has been trips out to the mountains, excursions exploring the downtown shops and even the adventure of watching the Calgary Stampede Parade. Through a massive amount of meals out on the town, my time here in Calgary is finally starting to shape into a brilliant holiday. Between tennis, the Rocky Mountains, Calgary Stampede Rodeo, Ziplining, Bobsledding, Climbing, Crafting and lazing out in the summer sun - there isn't much I won't have done by the time this trip is over. 

2 weeks of craziness done. 2 weeks to go. The adventure is only half done. 

What We Do to the Earth

What we do to the earth we do to ourselves.

~ Lululemon

I've made it. Over 24hrs of travelling and I have officially reached the homeland. My homeland. It's a little strange to be here after being away for 3 years - yup, that's right. 3 entire years I have been gone. It's a little crazy and I have no explanation other than time seems to fly when having fun. 

Enjoying the view

To say coming back to Canada was a little intimidating is the understatement of the year. I was entirely petrified. No one except my sister knew I was coming for the simply fact that the thought of showing up at the airport after 24hrs of travelling and 3 years of being absent, the 20-some people eagerly waiting to greet me freaked me out. Talk about pressure. 

And so I planned it as a surprise. Didn't take much effort other than to book my flights and inform my sister of the date of my arrival. And then hope she'd even show up. 3 years changes things - it certainly changed me and I could only assume that everything had changed back in Canada as well. Even still, I knew it was time to go back and see everyone again - I was as ready as I would ever be.

Saying goodbye to everyone in Hanmer Springs was difficult. It felt as though I was saying goodbye to home and my family all over again. Having been there over a year, Hanmer Springs has become home. And yet I did the deed and left. Driving away in my rental car, all I could think was that it would be my last day driving on the left side of the road for a while and that kind of freaked me out a bit. I only hoped that things would be okay upon my arrival.

In Christchurch I found a place to stay and tried to fall asleep at 5pm. Naturally, this didn't happen and so I tossed and turned until nearly midnight before my mind finally shut off and I got a few hours sleep prior to being woken up by my alarm at 3am. It was time to go. Checking in at the airport and going through security was pretty standard - right down to my being chosen (as usual) for the "random" bomb check. I seriously need to figure out what it is about me that makes me look like an explosives carrier. 

Banff, Alberta

7am we left Christchurch on route to Sydney. After a quick breakkie and one showing of 21 Jump Street, we were there. Off the plane I went to go check-in for the next plane, sit and wait for boarding and then board. And again we went - only this time leaving 30 min later than we were meant to. I figured we'd catch up time in the air. Apparently not. During our 14hr flight to Vancouver, the captain didn't find time to speed up a little. Instead, he slowed down so that our arrival time was a full hour later than we were meant to arrive. Perfect. I had a mere 40 min to disembark, grab my luggage, go through customs, re-check in and board the next plane to Calgary. 

As that was an impossible feat in itself, I got put on standby for the next plane. Fortunately I got on - only my bag didn't which resulted in the first meeting with my sister in Calgary being one of total awkwardness as we waited for my bag to arrive at the baggage claim for what seemed to be an eternity before we concluded that it hadn't been on the same flight as me. Fortunately the airport would courier it to me later.

What followed my arrival to Calgary was none other than a series of surprise visits to family who had no idea I was in town. After a lengthy lunch date with my sister, we went to my mom's work to set up a coffee date between her and my sister. Only my mom didn't know I would be there too. When she showed up, it was like the world stopped spinning and nothing moved. And so it went.

Tears, smiles, exclamation of excitement - one by one I surprised all my loved ones. It was incredibly exhausting and exhilarating all at the same time. My dad was probably the best surprise as he and I had been planned a Skype date for that week and so he was busy eating dinner so he could be in front of the computer for our arranged time. The glitch came when my sister called to say she was in the area and asked if she could drop by. My dad greeted her at the door and proceeded to make small talk, all the while informing her that she may have to go as he had a Skype date with me. He was completely unaware that my sister had dropped me off down the street to walk up to his door and ring the doorbell. His automatic response to the ringing door was to demand what "they" could possibly want. He opened the door and was completely stunned to find me standing there. It was perfect.

As these emotional days have passed, I find myself settling into life back in Canada to a point where it almost makes me wonder if my life in New Zealand was even real. Things have changed. I have changed. Everyone has changed - and yet it still all the same as I left it 3 years ago. It's strange but oddly comforting just the same. 

Banff Springs Hotel

What has stunned me the most is probably the amount of stuff I had left behind so long ago. I had previously sold what I thought to be nearly all my possessions as I didn't know when I would return to Canada. However, upon returning, I have discovered that my previous notion of "all" my possessions really wasn't accurate. I began opening up boxes to find I have enough clothes for an army. I do believe I had a shopping problem. Fortunately for me, this means I no longer have to buy clothes for the next few years. I can finally say goodbye to my one pair of jeans I have been hanging onto in New Zealand and mending every they rip. 

Overall it's been a bit of a whirlwind to say the least, but it's good to be back. It's good to finally see familiar faces in person - not just on Skype. It's good to finally be in the same time zone as everyone else. It's good to be able to pick up the phone and call someone for a coffee date and know that it could actually happen. It's good to no longer be saying "I can't wait to come back" - I am back. For now. 

Choose a Positive Thought

The conscious brain can only hold one thought at a time. Choose a positive thought.

~ Lululemon

Jess killed a possum yesterday. It was her second one. I'm not sure if I should be happy for her or not - she is in no way a hunting dog. The event of her killing an animal is more one of complete and utter accident as she generally can't even get within sniffing distance of a possum due to her lack of skills in the stealth attack department. Regardless, yesterday she managed to kill a possum.

We had been on route to town to pick up some groceries and hadn't gotten more than 50m from my home when she veered off into the deep snow towards the bush. I knew she was onto something as she refused to listen to me calling her back to where I was and so I stood on the side of the road and waiting. Within a minute or two I could hear a horrific scream coming from the possum as Jess got it in her mouth and started flinging it around. Jess doesn't quite clue into the fact that one must tear apart the animal you are trying to kill. She has only grasped the concept that one must get it in their mouth. As such, the death of the possum was a monumentally slow event to which I eventually got sick of standing on the side of the road listening to the possum's screams and lugged my way into the bush to drag Jess away.

It was just another day.

Kellie, Linda, me, Prajot & Graeme - first thing in the morning

I was glad of this fact as I walked my way into town. This past week has been nothing short of one big adventure to which none of us have known how it was going to end. It all started on Tuesday when the team at the camp put together our our first Bingo Bananza fundraiser - we didn't know what to expect and were pleasantly surprised to have more than just our staff show up to the event. After a night of playing Bingo and having a bit of fun, we were all stoked to have raised just over $130 - with any luck, our future Bingo nights during the winter will be even more successful. Our goal is to raise enough money to get a projector and projector screen for the Recreation Hall.

Anyway - that wasn't particularly where the adventure starts - it was that night. All throughout the day we had been hearing reports that there was going to be a massive dump of snow in Hanmer Springs - all the weather people were rather excited about it. But when we finished up Bingo Bananza that night and went outside, all there was was rain. None of us were really too sure that we'd actually see snow by morning - if anything we figured it'd just be another thick frost.

When I rolled out of bed the next morning, I had completely forgotten about the weather reports so when I went to let Jess outside for her morning pee and get some firewood to start the fire, I about fell over at the sight I saw. Everything was covered in over a foot of snow and it was still snowing. The air was as quiet as ever. It was a proper winter wonderland.

Before I could get back inside to start the fire, I could hear some rustling in the trees. I looked up to find that Linda & Prajot were on the other side of the fence with big grins on their faces. We decided to go out for a proper walk even though it was just after 6 AM. And so we went, bundled up and wearing gumboots - we took Jess out for a walk. By the time we got back, it was nearly 7 AM and so we knew everyone else would be awake. Within no time at all, we were all outside throwing snowballs, laughing and jumping around as the sun peaked its head up over the horizon. It was perfect.

Things started to get interesting after I got back to my place for a shower and to get ready for work. The lights started to flicker and before I could get my hair dried, the power went out. It was going to be a proper snow day.

My house hidden behind the snow

For the next three days, the camp became a hideout of snowy magic. All the staff, volunteers and the one group of customers made the Big Kitchen our home base as we cranked up the fire, brought in clothes horses to dry everything and spent our time exploring the snow-covered wilderness and getting warmed up inside. The board games, crafts, Bingo and drawings came out as we whittled away at the hours. Meals became a group event as we cooked on the fireplace, drank tea/coffee and laughed the days away. Snowmen were made, snowballs thrown and many tracks were carved out with our shovels. By the end of the third day we managed to get our power back for good and sort out the phone as well (mobile services and land lines were down as well). As the camp is located at the end of the road, we couldn't have felt more isolated. It was another world.

Everyone pitching in to clear the snow

Stocking up for food was an event in itself as a handful of people would get geared up with packs and got tramping into town - the snow was up to our knees in parts. We couldn't clear the driveway and so stocking up for wood was done by pulling a tarp by rope with the pile of wood stacked on it.  We avoided walking under the trees as the branches continued to break and fall off under the weight of the snow. Life slowed down to a halt and we learned to enjoy each others company and live in the moment. We cheered when the electricity would come on and became innovative in figuring out how to dry hair in the morning (by the fire works fine). Frozen food was stored in the snow as the electricity was off and we discussed our preferences in clothing types to wear in the cold. Gumboots were worn at all times with plastic bags over our feet to prevent snow getting them wet.

By the end of Friday, everything was slowly coming back to normal again as we managed to get everything sorted enough for customers to be able to get into the camp for the weekend. Surprisingly, they came despite our warnings of sketchy power, limited hot water and incredibly icy roads. Aside from our photographic evidence of the main event, it seems as though it never happened.

And now that life is returning to normal again, I can focus on other things - such as my book. I have gotten my proof back of my book cover and I'm ecstatic at the end result. It has only signified the reality that my book will soon be published and I am stoked to almost be done it. With any luck, by the end of the month, it will be available for purchase in eBook format and print. So excited!!

Do Not Use Cleaning Chemicals

Do not use cleaning chemicals on your kitchen counters. Someone will inevitably make a sandwich on your counter.

 ~ Lululemon

I find it fascinating to see how the world around us is changing. Changing to become more green. To become more conscious of the decision we make on a daily basis and how they affect both the people around us and the world we live in. At the camp we have switched to a chemical-free cleaning system. When you get to the bottom of the scientific reasoning, the bottom line simply states that it makes sense. Why wouldn't you want to cut out chemicals? Think of all the warning labels on those multiple bottles stored under your kitchen sink. Those that say you can only dispose of the remains in a certain way. Those that say you must wear protective clothing to avoid touching that said chemical. Those that say not to swallow or don't get in your eyes. Those that say you must call a certain number should anything go wrong. 

And so chemical-free we have gone. The camp switched to Enjo cleaning products nearly 6 months ago and it has made a world of a difference. No longer are we spending heaps of money on chemicals, but the place is actually cleaner for it (think of all those times you have to "clean up" what you just cleaned simply because the chemical residue is still present on the surface) - the comments are coming in of how fabulous the place looks and we are even getting questions as to what we use. Funny that we're simply a forestry camp that deals with schools year round and yet we have some sort of impressive cleaning system.

That impressive cleaning system is just what I had to use today. As we have hit a natural transition faze in our volunteer model, today we had no volunteers to do the normal tasks to help the camp run properly. As per my job description, the tasks then fell upon my shoulders to complete. So today I had the brilliant job of cleaning toilets. It wasn't so bad - at least I didn't have to wear gloves due to the chemicals being used and it didn't. That and it's not like I've been doing it day-in, day-out to be bored of it. Even still, it brought back memories of when I first arrived at the camp and I was doing all the cleaning. Back in the day when I just thought I would stay a couple months to save enough money to be able to move on. Back in the day when I lived in a Forestry Cabin and was the only person allocated to do the cleaning on a daily basis. Back in the day when I was still labelled as a "backpacker."

Calgary, Alberta, Canada

Times have changed quite significantly since I was a cleaner for the Hanmer Springs Forest Camp. Not only have I moved out of cabin B1 to a proper house (though the insulation leaves nothing to be desired), but my entire position at the camp has changed. There is something to be said about being in a position where I feel completely exhilarated to come to work every single day. Sure - I work at a campground, but the Hanmer Springs Forest Camp isn't just any campground. There is so much depth and history and potential to it that it could keep me going for many years to come. 

Essentially, all my thinking of the past has brought me to where I am at today. As the Volunteer & Fundraising Coordinator of the camp, I have been set with the task of implementing a steady stream of income through donations, fundraising and funding that the camp has otherwise not had since it opened its doors in 1978. And now it has nearly come. I have been putting together plans for an annual Art & Film Festival to occur in January 2013 that should the remaining sponsors get on board - will be not only the biggest event the camp has ever had, but the biggest event of Hanmer Springs. Complete with Art Stalls, Workshops, Silent Auction, Entertainment, a free Kids Zone, Food and an Open-Air Cinema, there will be something for people of all ages. And I can't wait for it to happen.

There is something to be said about planning an event that will bring in more money for the camp than what I will make in an entire year - it's brilliant to be part of something that has a vision. Has potential. Has direction. And who knows - maybe by putting in my two cents in the next couple of years I will be able to help the camp develop opportunities for underprivileged children to go to camp for a week. Maybe I will be able to help the camp upgrade some of its facilities. Maybe I will be able to help the camp generate enough funds to develop new programs. Maybe I will help the camp become all that it is meant to be. 

Hanmer Springs, Canterbury, New Zealand

In the meantime I find I am torn between being excited about my career prospects in what I am doing here in Hanmer Springs and trying not to lose touch with loved ones back in Canada. It's not easy being here, living day-by-day, knowing that those I love to pieces are on the other side of the world and that I'm missing out on their lives as much as their missing out on mine. As much as I know that I am were I am meant to be, I struggle with the guilt of knowing that I have chosen to be where I am. Is there ever a right choice between choosing to do what you love and be with those you love?

As it is, I find as the days tick on, I continue to look forward to going back to Canada for a visit. It has been long enough and I find each day that goes by I am more aware of all that I am missing out back in Canada. It is not that I want to go back to live there - it is that I know the more time that goes on, the more I am distancing myself from all that I once was. 

All that I can focus on is the fact that I have booked my flights. It will be awesome to see everyone that I have not seen for nearly 3 years now. It will be great to hug those I have not been able to for so long and finally sit down for a proper coffee within the same time zone and catch up. I can't wait to see how Calgary has changed in the past 3 years as much as I can't wait to see my best friend, Janelle, get married. There is so much about "home" that I have forgotten about - things such as stores being open 24/7, slurpees, and the ability to say aluminum foil without being laughed at (those that have traveled from North America know what I am talking about). I can't even remember what good TV is like, nor the feeling of driving down a proper "motorway" (the one into Christchurch is 2 lanes wide and 10km long). There is so much of Canadian/North American culture that I have not been a part of for so long that as excited as I am to go back - it also freaks the crap out of me. 

Even still, none of it matters as it is the people I plan to see that matters most. So much has changed in the last few years that it seems absurd to think that things can pick up where they have left off. It's difficult to know what will happen when I step off that plan at the Calgary airport, but I know one thing is for sure - I will be damn happy to be able to buy mascara for less than $20!

Listen, Listen, Listen

Listen, listen, listen and then ask strategic questions.

~ Lululemon

So I've listened. For the past year or so I have strained my ears to hear the comments of the local Kiwis and I concluded that there has been barely a peep of protest from them. I don' get it. Everyone appears to be rather content with their lives and homes just the way they are with no one significantly making progress to change. Perhaps I've just been hanging around people that have newer houses.

For a while there I was starting to think that it was just me. Or maybe, the effects of everything weren't as bad as what I anticipated them to be. That thought came crashing down today when I got my monthly statement from the electricity company only to find that in the last 30 days my usage for electricity appears to have skyrocketed. Perfect. It was just what I had feared.

Obviously I anticipated some sort of increase in my electricity bill now that we have entered Autumn and Winter is on the horizon. The days are cooler and the nights are frosty - it's all well and lovely until my house enters the equations. True to Kiwi-style, my house was built with the classic "she'll be alright" mentality. There are visible gaps around the outside doors that let a continuous stream of warmish-air out while the cold air fights its way in. Many of the windows to entirely close all the way - again, the airflow is constant. There is only single-pane glass on all windows and the only insulation to speak of that I know about is what has been slapped up in the ceiling space, all loosely lying there for the mice to build their homes.

Heating? Well, forget the classic central heating system that I am used to from Canada. There is a wood burner and as nice as it is to sit in front of the fire each night (I frequently am within an arm's reach away), it takes nearly half a day before it is able to heat the entire house to a level that my feet don't feel numb. The only way to speed up the heating process is to turn on a draft system built into the ceiling (apparently no one thought through the basic principle of heat - it rises - which makes it doubly difficult for the air to actually heat the room) to which the hot air from the wood burner is sucked through the ceiling and then blown out various faucets around my house.

This is the way of the Kiwi. And those that have discovered the simplicity of double-glazing and fitting doors/windows properly so there are no gaps are astounded at the amount of warmth that stays in the house (even at night!) and the fact that their energy bill is greatly decreased. There's actually commercials interviewing people on this. For the rest of us poor buggers who either have no idea of how life could be so much more warm and energy efficient or simply do not have enough money to upgrade their house, we continue to sit in our three layers of clothing (even though it's still +10 degrees outside) surrounding the wood burner as though it is our life source.

I vaguely remember the good old days back in Canada where my energy bill would be somewhere in the realm of $40/month over the coldest months - cold the Kiwi's here can't even begin to fathom and yet I was still able to keep the lights on all day and was toasty warm in my little flat. Here? I sit in the dark to save electricity, pile on the clothes and turn off every electrical outlet I possibly can just to save energy. And yet my bill has still hit the $90 mark. Brilliant.

Sure, my energy bill has still yet to see the effects of me getting rid of my TV and such, but I reckon winter is still going to be a time of reading books by the light of the fire as I burn through yet another forest of trees trying to keep the house warm enough to not be catching a cold every other week.

Maybe one day Kiwis will catch onto the idea that if they built their houses to suit all weather to begin with, they'd end up saving a heap of money, time and effort. They would no longer need a gas or electric heater in every room. They would no longer need to "prepare for winter" by purchasing an electric blanket for every bed (yes, they still use those here) -- there would be no need for the hot water bottles or insulated window curtains (no lies). People would be able to sit inside their homes comfortably without having the wood fire going full blast 24/7. They would rest assured that their electric bill would be a reasonable and affordable amount to pay each month.

In the meantime, I will sit huddled up in my house built back in the 1950s (or whenever) and try to stay warm as I think of how I can possibly cut down even further on my electricity bill in the future - there IS only me here. It seems ridiculous to be spending that amount of money on a bill - I might as well be letting my money fly through the gap under my front door along with all the hot air.