North Island

The train trip took us up the East coast of the South Island, the 'mainland' as most New Zealanders (at least southislanders) call it. We passed through the plains of Canterbury, amognst the sheep and many vineyards, through the hills, and then onto the coastline south of Kaikoura. Trundling along the shore alongside the road, we would watch for the abundant fur seals dotted along the rocky shores. Some had even made their way up to the side of the road to bask in the warming rays of sun. After Kaikoura, we wove between the shore and the nearby hills. Passing over the salt lakes where ~90% of all New Zealands salt comes from, through tunnels, and into Picton where we diembarked and made our way to the ferry.

The ferry was huge. With multiple restaurants, a bar, two movie theaters (showing the most recently released screen films), and several childrens play areas, not to mention the abundant space for vehicles and people. The two-and-a-half hour trip passed quickly and before we knew it we were in Wellington.

We caught a cab into town and found our hotel tucked back into the steep hills that delineate the city. Wellington is a very different city to Christchurch. Where Christchurch is spread over the vast plains of Canterbury and makes little use of its vast ocean shoreline, Wellington is tucked neatly into the hills that surround the town, making good use of every space available right up to the water. A very pretty city indeed. Te Papa is the national museum located in Wellington (http://www.tepapa.govt.nz/pages/default.aspx) and what a museum it is. We were told that it was the one thing not to miss while there and we were glad to have a full day to devote to exploring its vast winding halls of exhibits. There are still parts I had to leave unexplored until next time. . .

We were also able to spend some time walking around town. Along the beach drive, that took us below the ever-more cleverly built houses that protruded from the side of the ever steepening hill, the lights of the city sparkling on the dark waters of the harbour at night. Up the hill with the help of the cable car to the botanic gardens, where we saw our first keas and tui. Two essential kiwi birds.

On our third day there we packed up and head to the airport for our trip to Auckland. Flying in New Zealand is easy and relatively cheap. Especially if one is lucky and quick enough to snare a ticket from the Air New Zealand grabaseat sales they have on every Wednesday (we were not). We arrived in Auckland in the late afternoon and caught the extraordinarily expensive public transportation into town.

Stephen and I stayed at the conference hotel, while Jan stayed around the corner at a lovely hotel complete with kitchenette and clothes washer. The most obvious difference between Christchurch and Auckland is the topography. Built on a field of extinct volcanoes Auckland is not flat, nor has it allowed the steep slopes to guide it's building other than the curving of the roads. There are ~41 volcanoes within the Auckland area ranging from tiny hills that the hotel was on to enourmous volcanoe islands like Rangitoto. Fortuantely, I was able to mix in a bit of wandering during the conference and was able to join Stephen and Jan on many of their explorations.

On the second day of the conference Jan left for home and Stephen and I attended the conference dinner. What an event. Held at a local Antarctic attraction, Kelly Tarlton's Antarctic Encounter and Underwater World, the dinner was phenomenal(http://www.kellytarltons.co.nz/home/page.aspx). It began with wine and beer (yes, free) and nibbles in the aquarium. This included a large underwater passageway that took you beneath a salt-water aquarium full of ocean fish, sharks, and other sea life. After an hour we were ushered into 'Stingray Bay', which is a huge room half filled with a waist high tank holding three dinner table sized stingrays and some fish. Tables were laid out and we were invited to dig in. Several buffet tables were laid to near collapse with salads, pickles, mussles, raw oysters, steamed prawns and dozens of sauces and breads. The food was delicious and apparently only the beginning as shortly later more tables were laid out with cooked lamb, pork, chicken, fish, and pasta. After almost two hours at the tables, we waddled back onto the buses and fell into our beds at the hotel.

After the conference, Stephen and I had an extra day in Auckland and we took full advantage of it by going out to explore the volcanic island of Rangitoto. Having spent the previous day there with his mom, Stephen was able to give me a tour of the parts they had visited. Of major interest to me were the tiny ferns called kidney ferns. Highly adapted to the climate, these ferns have a very small surface area meaning they reduce the amount of water loss in the long dry summer months. They also have really neat spore capsules along the outside edge of their leaf. Rangitoto is also an interesting phenomenon in that it is completely owned by the government (Department of Conservation), but there are lingering private baches (cottages) sprinkled along the shore.

That afternoon we climbed aboard the plane and made our way home. Back to Smaug and school and work. Oh well, I'm already looking forward to my next conference. . . .ACUNS in Whitehorse in early October.

Research

I suppose, with the brief exception of sharing my office space, I have avoided the whole topic of school up to this point. We have been here in New Zealand for 5 1/2 months now and I'm approaching my first deadline; the submission of my proposal. And I've also presented my work at my first conference, the Antarctica New Zealand conference held this year in Auckland. So I figured I should take a moment and share with you all what I'm actually doing here (besides taking in stray cats, shopping at markets, and being cold).

I am studying at Gateway Antarctica, the Antarctic research centre associated with the University of Canterbury (http://www.anta.canterbury.ac.nz/). We fall under the Faculty of Science and are located in the geography building, but Gateway is a seperate entity that has links to pretty much all the faculties at the university. If someone is studying anything to do with "the ice" (that's what New Zealanders call Antarctica) they come through Gateway. The people at the office are absolutely wonderful and I'm pretty sure we have the most worldly faculty (not one of them is from New Zealand ironically). My superviser at the uni is Bryan Storey, the director of Gateway and a geologist, he pretty much guides the paperwork aspect of the project and keeps an eye on me (from Ireland). Gary Steel, my other supervisor, actually works out at Lincoln University (on the outskirts of Christchurch - they have a very strong agricultural focus) but is an adjunct faculty at U of C and is an environmental psychologist (and from Prince George). Others at the office include an Austrian couple (Wolfgang and Ursula), an american (Michelle), a welshman (Irfon) and an east german (Daniella). Lunchtime is always great with conversations ranging from Micheal Jackson's funeral and the newest movies to East German space technology and the intricacies of rugby. But once again, I'm changing topic.

My main underlying question is "How does 'sense of place' develope in remote and extreme environments?" Sense of place is an intriguing topic to me, as it explores the connections, meanings and values we place on the space we inhabit. There has been lots of work done on how sense of place developes in and around where people live (eg. home, neighbourhood, city, etc.), but there has been little to no work done on how we project meaning onto places (or spaces) we have not been. Antarctica intrigues me as well due to its common associtation with tabula rasa (which means 'blank slate'), with relatively recent human physical presence, it plays host to a newly developing culture based mostly on science.

The poster is the one I presented recently at the Auckland conference. It won the 1st prize for student posters. A thrilling result for my first foray into the research community here.

But now, I'm off to the pub.

A visit from mom

On June 22, Stephen's mom arrived at the Christchurch airport. She had just flown halfway around the world from Canada to come and see us in New Zealand. Stephen was on a break from school and I, well, graduate work is flexible.

We spent the first couple of days around Christchurch, sharing our favorite sights and sounds and places for feeding ducks. We also rented a car and did some out of town travelling. Which was great as it allowed Stephen and I to try driving for the first time here in someone elses car. We first went to Akaroa, a small french community on the southern side of the Banks Peninsula. The drive over was windy and pretty steep, as the peninsula is made up of a collection of old volcanoes, with Akaroa resting in one of the old craters where the ocean now caresses the tree covered shores. Once we got there we hopped on a boat and went out for a harbour cruise. The trip was wonderful, I hadn't realized how much I missed being out on the water until we got there. And to add to that, we also saw a couple of white-winged fairy penguins and a more than a couple Hector's dolphins (the smallest dolphin in the world at 1.2 meters long).

The next day we drove north to Hanmer Springs, a natural hot springs in the foothills of the Southern Alps. We went for a hike to see some unplanted forest and find a waterfall, and returned for the main attraction (the hot springs) before heading back home for dinner. On Saturday we took ourselves over to Lyttelton to partake of the farmers market there and get some food for our dinner and our trip north the following day. We hiked back over the volcanic rim (same peninsula as Akaroa) and into Christchurch, meeting hikers, runners, and a couple pigs along the way. That night we bundled ourselves up and tore our voices to bits cheering on the All Blacks as they played against Italy. The game was complete with opera singers, maori warriors and more than one haka. It was a great way to share our place before heading north for the rest of Jan's visit.

Early the next morning, Stephen and I trundled over to Jan's motel to catch the shuttle to the train station. We pulled ourselves onto the train and headed off into the dark morning towards Picton and the North Island.

Scavenger Hunt

Alright folks, I am changing things a little for this post. As much fun as it is to write a story, it is sometimes difficult to come up with something new to share. So instead I am creating a sort of scavenger hunt to entice you to come and visit us here in New Zealand. Granted there is no vast monetary prize for being the first or the fastest or the most comical in completing it, however you will gain far more than any 'prize' by simply coming to visit us and explore the beautiful country we are living in.

The way this works is simple. Stephen and I went for a walk today and along the way I took several photos. I have chosen a few dispersed along our route and posted them here. In order to complete the excercise in geographical re-navigation you will have to come here to Christchurch, find the places present in the photos and enjoy the very fact that Stephen and I will probably at that point be with you sharing our new 'home'.

Enjoy!

The Sewing Machine

It started when I was invited to join a stitch'n'bitch group that two of my fellow Gateway Antarcticans were part of. So I biked out that Wednesday night with my little basket of knitting and felting, and found my way to a cosy house with tea and treats. There I met Fenela and Louise (Ursula and Briar being the ones who invited me). Mostly the others quilt. Quilting is a pastime I've always told myself I will take up when I'm old and have time (that's what happens doesn't it; as you age you have more time on your hands?!). That first night, I worked on my knitting and watched as various squares of beautiful fabric came together.

The following week was hosted at someone elses house, with different treats and tea, but all the same lovely fabric overflowing from bags and baskets. I spent more time asking about how to hand sew and choose fabrics and patterns. The weekly meetings encouraged me to finish more projects than I'd ever even dreamed of, but it also expanded my creative desires, much to Stephen's chagrin as more and more wool, fabric, beads, paper, and all their requesit tools filled our little space. This all came to a head when last Sunday I took a much desired trip to Riccarton Market (without Stephen).

I went there with only a certain amount of cash. This is a must when attending any sort of market (much like setting a limit before going to an auction). I gathered all the vegetables and fruit I knew we needed, then set to with the remaining cash to find what sort of deals I could find to feed my growing crafting urges. A beautiful porcelaine bowl here, some heavy silver cutlery there, a variety of frames for the collection of Yukon art cards I'd brought from home, and always, on the back of my mind a good deal on a sewing machine to replace the one we left behind in Whitehorse.

And there it was. A gorgeous old Singer. Gold flower design handpainted onto it's slender body resting amongst an assortment of antique wooden furniture and worn tapestries. I inquire off-handedly as to the cost of the "old sewing machine" and choke on the answer, 100$. Okay, so maybe that's not all that much, but it's certainly more than I had left in my pocket. So, it was one more lingering glance and goodbye. I wove amongst the hundreds of other market goers looking for deals.

Some ten stalls later, I chance a glance of another, somewhat less antique machine. This time I use more surreptitious techiniques and scan for a price tag, 85$. Not much better and certainly not within my budget. Things are not looking good, as I've done my once over of the market and can't remember seeing any other machines.

Winding my way through the stalls, I make towards the exit. Stopping at a stall held by several women to pick up a little glass vase. Making my way to the table I literally stumble over my prize. An unassuming wooden tubular box sits on the ground amongst some cardboard boxes of kids toys. I carefully peel back the cover, underneath sits a dusty, grimy, glowing, regal Singer sewing machine. I quickly move to the table and ask for its price. The lady looks at it and back to me, "How does 30$ sound?". Done!

Then of course I realize I have a bulging backpack on, I'm carrying two overlaoded bags of goods, I'm 45 minutes from home, and on my bike. Hmmmm. I ask casually where the lady lives. On the other side of town from me. Not much better from here. I tell her where I live, she's not planning a trip in that direction any time soon. But she does work only 10 blocks from there and she'll bring it in on Tuesday. Hooraahh! So I pass over my money, load the machine into her car and head off singing.

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It's Tuesday and it's raining. Pouring. Hailing. I'm not leaving the house.

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Wednesday, See Tuesday.

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Thursday, not much better than Wednesday or Tuesday, but I'm tired of waiting. I haed out on my bike, loaded with as many bungee cords as I can muster (4 - hey, they're harder than sheep, especially with no mustering dog to help; believe me, the cat does not even approach helpfulness on this front). I arrive at the office without much fuss and find the machine sitting on the desk waiting for me. A nice lady helps me with the door and wishes me luck with the rain and the bike home. I trundle outside, muttering about the rain and work at somehow attaching a 30lb. piece of machinery to the back of my bike.

Just as I struggle with the last of the cords I notice a distinct lack of increasing wetness. In fact the rain has not only stopped, the sun has come out (partly). I slap on my helmet, meet up with Stephen (who stopped on his way home from school to help with the expected terror of a trip home), and carefully bike home. And now, the Singer sits on the dining room table (when in use), whirring happily away on my basic projects (like seaming). The excitement now lies in figuring out what all the various sewing 'heads' that came with it do (there are some pretty complicated looking ones) and how to convince the other stitchers to come to my cramped quarters and teach me how to use them for quilting. . .PhD?! What's that?

New Home

Last weekend, Stephen and I packed up our stuff, cleaned our place from top to bottom, and lugged our boxes and bags about 100m, around to the other side of the house. Our new flat has the same square footage as the old one, but the layout is much different and in our minds better. We also get direct sunlight. Which as we all know, in the cool and rainy winter is absolutely wonderful.

A Guest

Well, we have our first guest. An overnight one none the less. I know, I know. You've seen the layo.ut and your wondering where on earth we're fitting them in. Well, knowing her she'll probably snuggle into our bed with us. She seems to be that kind of cat.

Yes, we have a wee cat in our lives at the moment. She came in with the neighbours, who were coming over to thank us for looking after their cats while they were away. She just sort of waltzed in and made herself at home. We asked if they knew if she had a home, but they had no idea, and could we maybe keep her since they had tried introducing her to their cats and it was really no good. So, since about 4pm this afternoon we've had this little sweetie in our lives. And sweet she is. Apparently she can not be more than about 5inches from one of us at any time, preferably close to the face. She has no qualms in jumping up onto you (while you're standing) and clambering up to your shoulders where she can snuggle up under your neck. I called her Smaug, after the dragon in The Hobbit. She's kind of all over you and won't leave you alone and she sort of looks like a little dragon (though she doesn't breath fire as far as I know).

We've put a little ad up in the hallway of the house, in case she belongs to one of our neighbours (no knocks yet). And tomorrow we'll put up notices on the poles outisde and at the local grocer. I figured I'd call the SPCA too in case someone calls them looking for their cat. But I'm pretty sure if she doesn't already belong to someone she will get picked up pretty quickly simply because of her need for constant cuddles. Maybe I should just have my friends over from Gateway. . . . . . I'm sure one of them needs a cat.