ONE.LIFE Blog

Treasure Hunting in Kelburn

2014-03-21T15:00:00.000+13:00

This past weekend was the annual fundraising market at the local church down in Kelburn (suburb in Wellington). I prefer to think of it more of a couple hours of blissful madness. I had been last year when I first arrived in Wellington and was pleasantly surprised at the great finds I managed to pick up even though I quickly realized I had arrived late (it opened at 10 am and I had gotten there around 11 am). The hoards of people left me needing to stop and take a few deep breaths to calm my nerves before diving back in.

This time around I knew better. I had seen the massive sign advertising the event for weeks and had kept the date of March 15 in my head as though I was chanting some mantra that was going to change my life if I just believed it hard enough. My heart was set on trying to find some wooden frames I could get at a good price in order to then upcycle into jewellery frames to sell through Paper Kite Creations. My fingers, toes and everything in between were crossed in hopes that my simple wish would become a reality.

And so Saturday finally rolled around. I popped out of bed like a kid on Christmas morning and raced to get everything done I needed to before walking my way in a state of giddy down to Kelburn for the market. Heaven knows where the excitement came from – maybe because I felt as though I was the only one that knew of this hidden shopping gem (though I did invite my friend Jess along as well) or maybe it was because there was something in the air last year that made the tight spaces crammed of people fingering their way over goods something worth coming back to.

I took out some cash and then found my way to the church. It became apparent that the event organisers were very serious about the start time of 10 am. There were volunteers posed at the entrance with a big rope blocking any early shoppers from entering. I was there only a few minutes before the big opening and already there were people crammed up against the entrance rope craning their necks to see how they could strategize to get to the best finds first.

The countdown began – yes, there was a countdown over a microphone – and then a bell signalled it was time to shop. I wove my way through the bodies of people and scoured the entire market with no success at finding frames.

My eyes started to blur as I tried to process all the frantic activity going on around me. People squeezing into spaces I never thought possible to go. Feelings of claustrophobia as I'd head in a direction only to come to a gridlock with someone in front and someone behind and no way out. Scanning book titles was an art when peering through a wavering sliver of a gap between two individuals set on hoarding the book table viewing space. I was about on my third loop around and losing all hope when my friend Jess arrived all excited that she’d bought some art for her place. It was then that things changed for me.

My awesome fabric bag for $3

While Jess bought some sheets – I found a massive overnight bag for $3 that was perfect for all my fabric I’ve been hoarding for my sewing machine. On route back to pick up Jess’s art, it was then that I saw them – the most beautiful wooden frames I could ever hope to upcycle sitting there. Waiting. Begging me to purchase them. And so I did.

And now my beautiful frames sit proudly in my bedroom awaiting their transformation into something that will one day hang on a woman’s wall (perhaps mine if they sit here too long) displaying all her beautiful jewellery.

Can’t wait to see what next year will bring!

It's Official - I Broke Up with Sugar

2014-02-10T19:48:00.001+13:00

I've given up - my relationship with the sugary sweet syrups, crystals and powders has come to an end. And I'm okay with that. I've realized that what started as a romantic thrill of ups and downs has turned into a cycle of negativity to which I feel as though I lost control and even a bit of myself in the process. And so it is over.

It's taken me a long time to get to this point - much of it to do with my fear of what my life might look like without sugar in it. How would I possibly cope? But over the last year I have come to terms with my denial on sugar and have finally admitted that not only am I addicted to it - I have a serious problem. It's not just the fact that I could eat a whole family-sized chocolate bar in one sitting and not think twice about it. Or the fact that many times I have had to turn down friends' invites to do something fun and exciting because I've spent all my spare money on lollies at the corner store. Or even the fact that I have had not one, but MANY occasions to which I had enough willpower to throw away the remaining bits of a chocolate bar or bag of lollies only to dig them out of the rubbish bin hours and sometimes days later to finish eating them. It's more that I have realized that many people closest to me don't even have a clue of how deep my problem runs.

I suppose that I have had my love for being physically active to thank for that. I have always been able to hide my problem with sugar for the simple fact that I could push myself to burn off enough of it to make me look relatively slim and fit. But inside the problems have started to have a voice of their own.

The headaches. The sleepless nights. The emotional ups and downs. The binges and then the withdraws. The funny heart beats, energy slumps and intense cravings so bad I can't focus on anything until I get my next sugar fix. That and no matter how much I exercise, my skin never quite feels right. And there's always lumps and bumps in areas that shouldn't be given how active I am on a regular basis.

But every time I have thought on quitting sugar, it seemed like such a daunting task that I couldn't fathom how to do it and not feel like I was missing out on half a life in doing so. I've tried cutting back. I've tried even going a week without buying a bag of lollies. I've tried to overcompensate with exercise in order to tell myself that the activity will balance out the sugar addiction. But none of it has quite worked out.

Until I found Sarah Wilson's book on her journey to quit sugar. And then it clicked. Everything she said felt like it spoke to me directly - her journey - her struggles - her very logical approach to cutting sugar out of her life. For good. It all sounded too good to be true. But it isn't.

I am now halfway through my 4th week of quitting sugar and I honestly don't miss it. Sure, the first week or so was a bit of torture - I couldn't believe how many times during the day my brain told me that I "needed" to get some sugar. But as time went on, my body started to adjust and now I find I eat food simply because I am hungry. I don't get the afternoon slumps or the restless nights of sleep. My headaches have stopped and I am finding new ways to cook in order to get the sweetness without the sugar.

The part I didn't quite believe in all of this is that life still goes on even without sugar. That I am okay without it and, no - I don't feel as though I am missing out. This is definitely something that I needed to do for me, and does not in any way mean that everyone in the world needs to follow suit. I am not saying that sugar is 100% evil - but I do know that until recently, it was very nearly controlling a lot of my life - a life that I want to live to the full, but haven't been able to because of sugar's hold on me. But now I am finally free.

If you want more information on Sarah Wilson or how to quit sugar, visit www.iquitsugar.com.

Goodbye Gemini, Hello Hubba Hubba

2013-12-30T08:38:00.001+13:00

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.

A Picture Says a Thousand Words - Sometimes I Wish They'd Stop Talking to Me

2013-12-01T11:41:00.002+13:00

Lately I have been so busy being bogged down with being "in the moment" that I have lost sight of where I have come from and what that means for where I want to go. This past year has been filled with many ups and downs for me - for each moment of celebration and happiness there has been an equally devastating moment eager to suck the air from my lungs. It hasn't been an easy year, but I feel that it has been one to make me stronger... even more so than walking the length of New Zealand ever did.

Today I took a moment to reflect on exactly all that I have done - not just this past year, but as far back as what my Facebook photos would allow me to time-travel. All of a sudden I found myself overcome with such a fullness in my heart... a fullness for all the experiences I have had. All the friends I made. All the places I have seen. All the laughter had. All the life lived.

What surprised me the most was that a majority of the photos captured I remembered when they were taken. And I remembered forcing myself (many, many times) to post them on Facebook. I remember forcing myself to ignore how I thought my hair wasn't quite right. To pretend I didn't see just how "big" my thighs looked or how my face appeared wider in comparison to everyone else in the shot. For as long as I can remember, I have always struggled with accepting myself for who I am and being okay of the way I look. And now as those moments have passed and years have gone by, I am able to look at the photos and not critique everything about me... not because that part of me has changed, but because it is far enough in the past that I no longer feel twinged by feelings of shame over my body from that moment in time.

Now that those moments have past, all I see is the smile that reaches my eyes. The laughter I can hear still lingering in the air. The gorgeous surroundings and how - no matter how I try - I can't say anything bad about the person I see reflected in the photos. That person is me. Those moments captured on camera have brought me to where I am today and it forever amazes me to where life has taken me.

And so as this year comes to a close and the next one opens up to a promise of starting anew yet again, I find myself faced with a resolution. A resolution that I learn to accept me for me. Not just who I am as a person - but what I look like at any camera angle. Because 5 years from now when I look back on the photos I take today, everything I find annoyingly hideous won't be noticeable to my eyes. And so it's not worth the mental angst to stress about it now. When I take the time to think about it, I figure I am already a pretty awesome version of myself and trying to reach invisible expectations is simply a waste of my time. I'd rather be celebrating the good times with more photography.

With that in mind, I think it is so incredibly important for all of us to start seeing the beauty of ourselves - regardless of our age, gender or size. For we are all beautiful because of our imperfections, not without them. It is a shame that we can spend so much time idolizing each other in a wrath of green envy on Facebook (though it can take a while for us to admit we do such a thing) when in reality we should be proud of the accomplishments, events and photos of ourselves we post on Facebook and other social media sites. Those sites are essentially a way to market yourself as a "brand," but why do we get so obsessed with making our brand an ideal of what we think we should be rather than just being ourselves?

Anyway - with that rant over and done with, I do hope that I will be able to make more of an effort in my own life to accept the way I look now... not wait for when I get those perfectly toned abs, slim down my legs or tilt my head in just the right way so the camera can capture my face with a slimmer perspective - there's too much going on in life to be worried about such things as it only makes me regret that I didn't fully enjoy those moments I was living as I couldn't appreciate me for me until years later when I was able to face the photos again.

The Cat Came Back.... Yeah Right

2013-11-18T07:44:00.000+13:00

I've decided I hate that song. Whoever wrote it obviously hadn't done much house moving with not one, but two cats. The last four weeks have marked some of the most stressful days for me (and the cats) that I can remember. Sure, the house moving went smoothly - but since then I have yet to get to a point where I feel as though the three of us have officially settled in.

It started right from day #1 with all-night howling, crying and door scratching to get outside. I didn't sleep. the nights that followed were much of the same until I got to the point that I couldn't take it anymore. Maybe that makes me selfish, but I didn't care at that point. So I let them outside. Indie didn't have a problem - he knew where his food bowl was. Kaeto, on the other hand, tracked down his old territory and ended up back at my old place happily waiting for my return and completely oblivious that a new person had moved in our old place.

Indie checking the happenings of the great outdoors

For the next week and a half I spent nearly every day going back to the old place to call Kaeto who would come running to me from wherever he was hiding so I could carry him back to the new place. I'd keep him inside for a bit where I'd feed him, pet him, play with him and then eventually let him back out. He'd go straight back to the old place. I got sick of it as I still wasn't sleeping as now I was stressing that Kaeto didn't want to come home.

So I bought some fresh kitty litter, locked the cat door and brought them both inside. I toughed it out for another week and a half with the nightly scratching, howling and crying until they both finally started to settle. Kaeto began to get comfortable and truly showed signs of owning the place. Perfect. I tested the waters again with them outside and was happy as pie with the result until it came time to feed them for dinner. Kaeto had gone. Again.

That was a week ago. I played tough love with him in the hopes that if I didn't come to pick him up at the old place, he would eventually find his way back to me. He didn't. So this morning on my morning run I went back there to pick him up. And now he is in my bedroom with a food bowl and litter box as I scrounge the internet for some magical solution to helping him settle in. Who knew there was such a thing as feline pheromone diffusers to help a cat feel settled. Who knew they would cost $100 a piece. And then there's microchips, cat tags, deterrent sprays, cat treats, harnesses, cat toys and keeping him indoors for good.

My life has become one of cats as of late and as much as I love both of them, I hate that fact. The rest of my life has faded into the distance - the fact that I got my Work Visa extended for another year was minimal news to me. The experience of me doing weekly Rollerfit Classes with a friend to train for Roller Derby next year has been exhausting with my lack of sleep. My choice to finally join a gym so that I can kick it up a notch with my fitness pales in comparison to the daily stress I face in trying to ensure that my cats... maybe just this once... might both decide to call home "Home."

And so cats it is - when I wake up in the morning to when I go to sleep. My decision to hang out with friends or come home early in hopes that maybe today Kaeto might be there waiting for me is an ongoing on. At least today he is home. Now I just have to figure out how to get him to stay when Indie is more that comfortable coming and going as he pleases. One thing is for certain - my experience the past month has left me little motivation to ever want to move house again.

Uprooting and Moving On

2013-10-10T18:09:00.000+13:00

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.

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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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).
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.”

Lucky Number 13

2013-09-28T07:30:00.002+12:00

By the end of this month I will have moved house a total of 13 times. Within the past 10 years, I have packed boxes, downsized to what I absolutely needed and hauled my things to a new address. Sometimes this meant many carloads between locations where as sometimes this simply meant packing my backpack with all I owned and strapping it to my back as I walked out the front door to face new adventures.

Of the last 12 places I have lived, I did not include the time I called a campervan my home when in Australia nor did I include when my only home was the tent in my pack as I walked across New Zealand. And so, without those - this next change of address will be number 13.

I am hoping this next place of residence will be my lucky number 13. I am not going far - really just down the road a bit - but I am hoping my choice to live somewhere more affordable with a few other people in a house will allow me to have more flexibility in what I want to do with my life. Financially. Socially. Everything in between.

And so the next couple of weeks will wrap up the last 8 months I have lived in Wellington - it really doesn't feel as though I have been here that long and yet it feels as though I have lived here forever. This little place I call home was the start of the next stage in my life in so many ways and it will be bitter sweet to say goodbye.

I find it difficult to even conceptualize all that has happened in the past few months. Since I last wrote, I have started (and nearly finished) a position of Youth Development Coordinator at work where I have been working on developing a new support service for young adults with disabilities. Between balancing that and my other role of Outcomes Facilitator (supporting individuals with their goals in life) there has been little mental energy at the end of the day for much else. Things such as my art have gone by the wayside as I have been concentrating all my time in sinking my teeth into giving 110% at work.

But I have managed to start to make some connections in the community. I've picked up rock-climbing with a weekly group, continued to go to the markets each Sunday, explored the wide-variety of food and drink in Wellington (a Cambodian restaurant has taken the top of my list), gone to Roller Disco, watched a couple of rugby games and even had the pleasure of showing my mom around this little city I call home.

So as things get hectic in the next couple of weeks as I balance work, moving and sorting out Immigration (yes, my work visa also expires this month) I simply look forward to when the dust settles again and I can press on with all I want my life to be.

Not Quite Home Sweet Home

2013-07-01T19:47:00.001+12:00

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.

Dreams Do Come True

2013-05-31T16:21:00.000+12:00

I truly believe that anything is possible in life. Dreams do come true. Our deepest desires of life ambitions are something that could be one day. Provided you have the tools and support there to make it happen. I have the privilege of being that very support for people in the job I do. Not only do I get to help people realize their dreams, but I also get to be there to help them plan how they are going to achieve those very special life goals.

The best part this last week was being able to go to a national gathering of all Outcomes Facilitators in New Zealand where we spent two days discussing how we could better support people to help achieve their goals. To be in a room with people who didn't just think that any dream was achievable, but that any person (no matter their disability) could achieve it -- was inspiring, to say the least.

It has only been in this last week that I have been able to reflect on my life and the opportunities presented to me as this past month has been one large whirlwind of cramming as much new information in my head as humanly possible. It is just now that the dust has started to settle and I can start to breath again with confidence that I know which direction I am headed in. Or at least until the next challenge needs to be faced.

One of the challenges I know will come in my near future is my volunteer position with Red Cross Refugee Services. This past month has been many meetings with other volunteers to train on the skills and information needed to work with refugees and not feel completely overwhelmed. Some of us still feel overwhelmed with the task, but at least we have a better idea of what we will be facing.

For the next six months, us volunteers will be divided into teams and each team will be assigned a refugee family to help settle into life in Wellington. Things that we generally take for granted - how to keep warm in the winter, how to take transit, what an EFTPOS/Debit card does, or even just how to speak in English to get what we want - will generally be a huge challenge for many of the refugees relocating to New Zealand. Again, it is an incredible privilege to be part of this process - to be part of someone's life as it is changing so dramatically - to be part of the process in helping someone create a place they can call home.

So much of the training for Refugee Services left me feeling amazed at the process that most of these individuals go through. There is so much loss in many of these peoples lives and yet for them to reach the point of being accepted as refugees to a new country, they have already become survivors. Given that the average time spent at any refugee camp waiting for the call to say they have been accepted to a new country is a whole 17 years, it truly is the strong at heart that make it.

While every refugee's story is different and their anguish personal, they all share a common thread of uncommon courage: the courage not only to survive, but to persevere and rebuild their shattered lives. (Antonio Guterres)

Anyway, back to my life - work is good. Friends are good. The weather is good (though I'm told "winter" is here... I'm still walking around most days with no coat). And I still wait on Residency. The last of my paperwork has gone through and now it's just crossing my fingers in hope that everything I passed on will give me the go ahead for Residency Status. The waiting is hard, but at least I know I am finally starting to feel a bit more settled here in Wellington regardless. Now if I could just get the neighbourhood cat to stop sneaking into my house when I'm not around.....

Waiting for the Ball to Drop

2013-05-12T13:54:00.000+12:00

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.

Back to the Bare Essentials

2013-05-05T09:57:00.000+12:00

This week has been one of reassessment on my part in a few areas of my life. I have been excitedly preparing for when I start my new job this Monday and through it, I have managed to reassess my budget based upon what I will be making. Seems simple enough, but this project of mine turned into one of frantically counting pennies to work out something I could actually live with -- wish I could justify living without electricity, but the thought of cold showers and cooking over an open fire didn't seem doable in the long term.

Most of this came through the realization and decision that my new job being part-time hours is a brilliant opportunity for me to seriously pursue my art as a form of income. Completely terrifying, but somehow I am at peace with it. As a result, my budget is only half of what I could be making right now because I am starting from complete and total scratch with my art. Because of this decision, my budget became a series of negotiations with myself this week, wriggling the last $5 around to find somewhere I could justify would be the best use for it.

And the funny thing was that once I was done and able to put my pencil down, I realized that by scrounging and skimping on everything in my life, I am forcing myself to live a lifestyle where I get more exercise by limiting my bus route. I eat healthier as I simply can't afford to go out for dinner nor buy the package of chips or chocolate that's on sale as a "treat." I also fulfil my life through a variety of DIY methods whether it's mending my own clothes, reusing toilet paper roles or making my own bread. Funny that life's "luxury's" are the very thing that keep us from living a healthy lifestyle. We'll see if I still feel the same way in a few months.

In the meantime, I now fill my days trying to do as much as I can with nothing. The internet becomes my friend as I have since learned new recipes and how many families (yes, families with kids and stuff) live on less than $40/week with their groceries. I wonder if I could do it with $20. As the months get cooler here, the layers start to pile on indoors until I start to look ridiculous as I avoid using my electric heater, but now I figure maybe I should just turn on the oven and bake another loaf of bread instead.

In all my reflection - I've managed to summarize what I hope to do with a few rules to live by:

- Only eat when I am hungry . In the past couple of months I have been trying to do this and I have been amazed at how often I go to grab something to eat when I am not hungry and how many other reasons I have in my head to eat something. The reality is, food is for nurishment and if my body isn't actually hungry, I am just wasting my money.
- If I don't need it, don't buy it . Again, just started doing this and it has really helped to clarify things no matter where it is that I am at, particularly when it comes to those hard-to-resist sale items. It has also helped to write a list of whatever it is I actually intend to buy before I go out - if it's not on the list, I obviously don't actually need to buy it.
- If I can recycle it, I can probably reuse it . I have been finding more and more ways to reuse everything that I generally put in my recycling bag - most of it helping with storage around the house (tin cans, plastic containers), but I've also discovered how I can create things to brighten up the house out of what I'd normally be throwing in the bin.
- Dress for the weather and walk there . With a bus stop right outside my house it is SOOOOOOOO easy sometimes to get a ride to where I want to go. The reality is - my legs work pretty good at getting me where I need to go, so more often than not I need to just quit whining about it and save a few bucks by walking to where I need to go.
- If it isn't dirty don't wash it . Primarily this is referring to laundry. It's so easy to just dump the clothes I've worn for one day into the laundry basket, but the last time I did laundry I had a thought as to how many clothes in that load were ACTUALLY dirty. I'd say 99.9% of them were not. It's not like I need to wear clothes for months on end as I did walking Te Araroa Trail, but every load of laundry I can skip is money saved through electricity and water.

It should be an interesting couple of months, but I am hoping it will ease up a bit as a result of my art gaining momentum. Fingers are crossed.

The Truth Will Set You Free

2013-04-28T14:43:00.001+12:00

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.

Beads, Beads and More Beads

2013-04-21T16:22:00.001+12:00

I have officially (and FINALLY) begun to turn the corner in my life. It has felt as though it's been forever where I have been floating through the fog that is called my existence as I wait for it all to clear so I can see what is up ahead. Well it's finally happened.

I got the call this past week that I have been offered a position with IDEA Services. Only the biggest organisation within New Zealand that's aim is to support people with intellectual disabilities and advocate for their rights - I am super excited to have the opportunity to work with them. I will be an Outcomes Facilitator where I will work with clients on developing their Life Plans and helping them to achieve their goals. All I can do is eagerly wait my start date so I can jump in with both feet and get started.

In the meantime, I have been spending the past couple of weeks developing my art profile again. It has been WAY too long since I have seriously delved into my creative mind, but the time has come. I have dusted off my collection of jewellery supplies and gotten back to the basics of what it was that hooked my addiction to the creative arts way back when. It still stuns me to realize how much supplies I actually have to create jewellery and other works of beaded things.

As my hands have gotten busy creating things, I figured it was time to put some energy into updating my online profile and finally set things up so I can sell things worldwide online. So for those of you who haven't heard yet, I have updated my artsite (www.shalanehopkins.com) to include a blog where I will be regularly sharing my journey of artistic creativity and simple ideas on things to create in and around your home. I have also created a Facebook Page (Shalane Hopkins - Artist) That will include mostly a collection of my creative journey through photographs and provide a platform for people to interact with me and share my works with their friends. Then to sell things online, I have opened my Etsy store called Paper Kite Creations where you are able to purchase anything I have for sale online.

The name Paper Kite Creations is founded by a type of butterfly called Paper Kite. These butterflies are most commonly found in Southeast Asia and remind me a lot of my journey of my art. Butterflies are symbolic of change, growth and a person's soul. As my work has been a journey to get to where I am today and I am constantly looking for new ways to develop myself further and be creative in more ways that one, this symbolism fit.

All these pages are then linked to one another and include links to my Pinterest page and Twitter profile. I've definitely gone on a social media frenzy in the last few weeks, but I figure it's the best way for me to build up my art profile and help me gain momentum in selling my work.

So what I guess I'm saying is spread the word. Check out some of the links here - follow me. Get involved. Give me feedback or let me know what you like. Help me to move forward so I can get back on the bandwagon of a creative lifestyle.

Unemployed and Making the Most of It

2013-04-04T17:04:00.003+13:00

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

2013-02-26T12:34:00.000+13:00

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.

Dirt, Mud and Darkness

2012-08-19T07:44:00.002+12:00

As I sit here with my morning cup of green tea in hand, I find my mind reeling with the events of the past 24hrs. The bruised pain emitting from the tips of my fingers as I type is only a slight reminder of the work involved yesterday in my garden.

It all started with a cloudy morning and a great gust of motivation to get my garden beds sorted for my first round of planting in the next few weeks. What started as a simply job of getting access to the camp truck and trailer, turned into a full day montage of dirt, dirt and more dirt. Waking up early, I marched myself over to the woodshed to fill the trailer with what will hopefully be the last lot of wood before the warmth of spring reaches my bones. I then gratefully accepted Duncan's help to back the trailer up to my garage - saving me nearly an hour of trying to move it myself.

After sorting the wood and dumping off a full load of random branches and rubbish that had piled up in my yard, it was time. Time to pull out the massive prickly plants in my front flower beds otherwise known as cabbage trees. I'm told they're native plants. I don't really care - they've been bloody well annoying me since the day I moved in as they have overtaken my flowerbeds and are far to big to have ever been planted there anyway. They had to go.

Assessing the situation, I figured it would take me an hour - 2 max to pull out the 7 monstrous plants. It turned out to be much more than that. I literally had to saw off each of them as close to the soil as possible in order to have access to the roots. And then it was a matter of clawing at the dirt until each one would break free. It sounds simply, but these plants aren't called cabbage trees for nothing. It felt as though I was attempting to dig out a tree.

By the time I finally managed to break the first massive root free, it was nearly lunchtime. Carrie and Campbell were up by that point and keen to do their own gardens and so I lugged my massive root over to their place to show it off. Carrie took pity on me and decided she would come help me out (I only had 6 more to do) and then I could help her and Campbell do theirs later. Linda and Prajot joined in which was awesome as instead of just me slaving away in the dirt, there was now 4 of us. Well - except that Prajot took a bigger interest in entertaining Jess and Kaeto and was a bit distracted from the task at hand.

Eventually we managed to get all 7 cabbage trees out of my garden, leaving it riddled with massive holes that I would later fill. After some much-deserved lunch it was onto Carrie and Campbell's place. By the time we had dinner, food had never tasted so good and all I could think was that I was stoked for some sleep. But the day wasn't over yet.

Carrie, Campbell and I had just finished eating and were getting into a game of Scrabble when we got word that two of our volunteers had gone up the Waterfall Track during the afternoon and still weren't back yet. They weren't answering their phones and it was now after 8PM and completely dark outside. We all piled into the car with headlamps and the hope that maybe we might spot them walking on the road on their way back. We didn't.

We got to the start of the track and seached the bushes for any signs that they might have stashed bikes there, confirming that they were in fact still on the trail. No bikes were found and so it was onto Plan B. Prajot had a heap of gear in his car and so he got ready to head up the trail, but as we didn't want him on his own - I volunteered to go with him. Both of us had done the trail heaps of time and though it was risky to go up during the dark, we were the best bet of finding the volunteers - particularly if one was injured.

Swapping my shoes for some with better grip and borrowing one of Prajot's extra winter coats, we strapped on our headlamps and started huffing it up the trail. Dark, muddy and cold it was and all I could think was that we would be very lucky to find the two girls missing. As the trail winds it way up the mountain, crossing the stream multiple times - there was plenty of opportunity to slip and fall or - worse - take a wrong turn and end up lost in the middle of the bush. From what we'd been told, neither one was particularly dressed for bad weather, much less was prepared for walking in the dark. The worst was that neither had done the trail before and so Prajot and I only hoped that they hadn't taken the wrong fork in the path, leading them to the summit of Mt. Isobel instead of to the Waterfall.

And so we walked. And talked. And gasped for air as we were going quite a good pace. The jacket I was wearing was too warm, my jeans were uncomfortable, I was worried about ruining Linda's boots, plus I really had to pee - but we pressed onwards.

It was about 15 minutes of us walking quickly when I looked up and about 5ft in front of me there they were, slowly making their way down the trail by the light of a cheap keychain flashlight. We asked them if they were okay (they were) and gave them headlamps and some warmer articles of clothing. Then we started to slowly make our way down again.

As it turned out, they had taken the wrong path and went about 15 minutes up it before realizing their mistake and turning around. By that point it was already dusk, but the one girl really wanted to see the waterfall and so she pressed on while the other one waited (wasn't feel well). By the time they turned to head back down, it was well on the way of getting dark and with only one small keychain flashlight between them to light their way, travelling was slow. One volunteer didn't have a jacket, no mitts, nothing warm to speak of and was wearing lightweight running shoes. The other one fared better in the clothing department, but her stomach wasn't feeling great if she tried to go faster.

Prajot and I were just glad to have found them.

Eventually we made our way back to the trailhead, hopped in the car and drove back - phoning Carrie at the camp in the process to let them know we had found the two volunteers. By the time we made it to the camp, we had everyone running to us to make sure the two were okay. They were. In fact - they were so okay, that they were completely oblivious that they had caused such a panic among our staff that the police were on the line ready to be sent out as a search party. They just giggled and wished Campbell a Happy Birthday before skipping their way to their cabins. The rest of us gapped at their unapologetic nature and then proceeded to debrief the situation to sort out what had happened.

Needless to say, by the time I finally got to bed after 11PM, I had no issues falling asleep.

Up the Garden Path

2012-08-12T16:22:00.000+12:00

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.

Around the World and Back Again

2012-08-04T16:32:00.001+12:00

I find it difficult to believe that it's already been over a week since I have been back in New Zealand. The last few weeks have literally been a whirlwind of craziness that has left my head screaming for everything to just stop so I can catch up. The last week in Canada was no exception.

After spending a bit of time in Invermere to do the Jumbo Pass trail with my dad, we headed back to the city only for me to continue my onslaught of scheduled activities with various people around the city. There was the dinner night with my Grandma to which we made our own mango chicken dish and then proceeded to watch a marathon of Mantracker shows before calling it a night.

My grandma, Danielle, me & Mom

The following day I had lunch with an old friend and then due to another friend cancelling our evening plans, I managed to have a bit of a breather before the next day loomed ahead. Meeting another friend for lunch, I proceeded to meet up with my mom where we caught up on the going ons of our week before heading off to get photos done with my sister and Grandma. It was a blast to just be hanging out and giggling the afternoon away while a photographer captured the moment. Something I am sure we will all treasure for the rest of our lives.

That night my sister and I slept over at my mom's house as the following morning we had plans to be at C.O.P. We had scheduled ourselves in for their summer package deal - Ziplining and Bobsledding for a mere $99 each. Perfect. An air of excitement hung around us as we waited for things to get going. And then while we strapped ourselves in our harnesses and helmets. And then while we drove to the top of C.O.P. before piling in the elevator that took us to the top of the massive ski jump used in the '89 Winter Olympics. As the ski jump is no longer in use, C.O.P. has used the opportunity to modify the jump into an incredible ziplining course.

I was stoked.

The instructors took a few minutes to explain the basics and then asked who wanted to go first - Danielle and I jumped at the opportunity and confidently clambered down the see-through stairs to where we would get harnessed to the zipline rope. Though I've ziplined before, there was something still so exhilarating about the knowledge that I would be hurtling down a rope hung high above the world below before coming to a stop at the bottom, all the while hoping like mad that nothing incredibly horrific would happen. It didn't. Danielle and I flew do the bottom with smiles plastered on our faces before disembarking and waiting for our mom.

Then came the bobsled. This was something I had always wanted to try since I knew you could and upon talking to my aunt about it, apparently so did my Great Grandmother. Due to the age of my Great Grandmother at the time, C.O.P. refused her to be allowed to try the adrenaline sport and so she passed away without getting to cross it off her bucket list. I figured perhaps my run of the bobsled could be part tribute to my Great Grandmother.

As nice as that sounds, the actual ride of the bobsled was entirely different from anything I really had expected. As we were going during the summer, there was no ice on the route and so we were riding in a sled with wheels. And because we were all amateurs, we were told to sit in the sled while the "driver" would give us a push before jumping in to steer the course in order to hopefully eliminate the chance of us flying around the corner and off the entire run itself.

We were told to hold onto the bars by our sides, lock our elbows and shrug our shoulders to support our heads and prevent them from being knocked about inside the vessel. Right. Once we picked up speed, there was no stopping me from being a manic bobble-head once sees strapped to the dashboard of a vehicle. Beings that I was a the front, I was hoping I'd get a chance to see what was coming for us, but I ended up being too busy just trying to keep my head from falling off.

By the end of our run (1min, 19sec) - my head, neck and shoulders hurt. But it was awesome. I haven't a clue how they call bobsledding a sport and probably won't ever volunteer to do it again - but it was well worth it.

Janelle & me

From C.O.P. it was a mad dash to Invermere where I met up with some girls for Janelle's Bachelorette party. After a couple days of shopping, spa-going, penis games and dancing, it was time to come back. But not before meeting up with Trevor and co. in Banff for a little outdoor concert. It was perfect. Particularly when I got word from my dad that my books had arrived. I was ecstatic.

When I got back to Calgary, I ripped open the box of books only to be in awe at the fact that they were real. I had never quite registered what it would mean to hold a book in my hand that I had written myself and it was a bit surreal. But I didn't have much time to dwell on that as it was time for bed. The next two days would need all my energy.

That following day I spent madly running around town (thanks to my mom being my chauffeur) delivering my freshly printed books. I had to sell as many as possible before I left because there was no way I'd be able to ship them back to NZ without an exorbitant charge and I also needed the money to fund what I did want to post back to NZ. And so sell them I did. By the end of the day I literally had sold about 90 of the books and only had a handful left to take back to NZ. Perfect.

By the time I packed everything and stored everything and paid for post boxes and had my haircut and opened a savings account at the bank and had a quick dinner, it was time to get to the airport. I had a similar feeling to when being blindfolded and spun around and then expected to walk in a straight line afterwards. My mind was a blur and I only hoped I would stay awake long enough to board the correct plane.

Trevor, Mom, Lori, me & Danielle in Banff

After a layover and plane switch in Vancouver and 15.5hrs later, I had made it to Sydney. But with a 10hr layover there, it would be a while until I'd get to Christchurch and eventually Hanmer Springs. With the spare time, I picked up the very popular Fifty Shades of Grey book from the bookstore and read it start to finish right there in the airport. I was not impressed. I haven't a clue why everyone is so excited about the book and definitely do not recommend it to anyone. It in no way got my "blood pumping." Instead, I had trouble staying awake to finish it. Bummer.

Eventually I found my way to a bed in Christchurch and then met up with Kelly the next morning to do some much-needed grocery shopping before heading back to Hanmer Springs. It felt good to be back.

And now that it's been over a week, it is as though not much has changed. I am still waiting for my post boxes from Canada in the mail, though I have managed to hang a few photos on my sparse walls. It has been both difficult and easy to get back into the swing of things and it really does feel like home.

Take Various Vitamins

2012-07-19T15:18:00.001+12:00

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

2012-07-11T04:33:00.001+12:00

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

2012-07-01T04:31:00.000+12:00

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.

Drink FRESH Water

2012-06-23T20:33:00.002+12:00

Drink FRESH water and as much water as you can.

~ Lululemon

Today the power went out. Again. For the second time in the past month, we had to stop everything we were doing and try to find a way to keep the camp running. Without power.

The last time this happened, it had just snowed. For 3 full days we battled the ups and downs of not having a regular supply of electricity - today we contemplated if our fate would be the same. Computers down and lights off, our staff at the camp set upon ensuring the generators were on and that all customers were aware of what was going on - not that we could particularly give them any answers. Being isolated at the end of Jollies Pass Road tends to do that to us.

It was all because of a massively windy day that allowed us to be in the predicament. The wind gusts howled so much that it was difficult to even be able to move forward at points. The dark clouds rolled in and the rain started pelting - it was during this that the lights flickered for half a second before everything shut down, leaving me in darkness.

Today had been one of those days to which my list of things to accomplish by the end of shift never seemed to get any shorter. Anytime I sat down to complete a task, there was something more immediately important to deal with instead. Constantly distracted, I was relieved to find a few silent minutes in the office to myself to get things done. And then the power went off.

As frustrating as it was to be yet again torn away from all that I wanted to do, the power being off only served to remind me of what is important in life. Not having electricity immediately forced everyone to check to see if everyone else was okay and if they weren't - what they needed to get comfortable. Blankets were handed out. Gas bottles for the BBQs given to ensure everyone got a decent evening meal. The Big Kitchen was opened so that customers could at least enjoy the warmth around a wood fire.

Though the electricity being out somewhat complicated things - it also simplified things. Us staff and camp volunteers found ourselves congregating within Graeme & Sandy's house for a hot cup of tea as they had a gas stove. We quickly forgot about the wind and rain in exchange for a special moment of bonding. All of us - all 14 of us - sitting around in a living room enjoying each other's company. Laughing. Sharing stories. We contemplated plans for dinner - what would be a fabulous meal of eggs, bread, sausage and baked beans (apparently we were all low on groceries at the same time). We made plans for the evening - a possible game of Risk by headlamps was in the running. Things were good.

The irony was that after an hour or so of no power, it came back on. We cheered and then immediately went back to whatever we were doing before the power went out. Back to work. Back to computers. Back to the music being played out of the iPod. Back to original dinners plans in each of our houses. Back to rugby on the TV. Back to reality.

It got me thinking - why is it that we avoid what we know is good and important to value until we have to? Those that start eating healthy in order to lose weight begin to realize how great it feels to be making good food choices only to turn back to old habits once their target weight is reached. Those that go on a holiday realize how awesome it is to take the time to spend with loved ones only to avoid them at all costs when back in "normal" life. People exercise like mad all the while chugging back water because they know the benefits of water on their body only to finish their run and go our for a night of binge drinking.

We are not so bad at the camp here. Generally speaking, the electricity is on and yet we still find time to sit around a table and share a meal. Get to know one another. We take the time to help each other out. We ignore the TV for an evening to play a board game instead. But why is it that it generally takes something like the electricity turning off for us to remember what is important in life? Maybe mother nature is giving us a little nudge to remind us to slow things down just a notch. Get back to the basics. Get back to what matters and forget the rest. Drink FRESH water and drink as much water as you can. Period.

Choose a Positive Thought

2012-06-10T09:54:00.001+12:00

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

2012-05-28T18:10:00.001+12:00

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!

Stress is Related to 99% of all Illness

2012-05-20T09:33:00.002+12:00

Stress is related to 99% of all illness.

~ Lululemon

It finally caught up to me. The stress of the last couple months has been slowly building towards a climactic finish – one that I should have seen coming. No, scratch that – I DID see it coming – I just chose to ignore it all. I figured that maybe if I could just hang on one more week. One more day – things would all work out. Things have worked out, just not me. I can officially say I am sick.

It happened this past Tuesday as I was sitting in reception, going over some email enquiries for the camp. As I sat there trying to decipher the newest message of gibber-gabber, I could feel the sickness overtake me. All of a sudden my head started to pound, as a sudden increase in perceived weight made me feel as though I had a bowling ball attached to my shoulders. All my muscles seized up and within an hour I had trouble focusing on the computer screen and my throat felt as though some animal had just come and scratched up the inside. The sickness had come for me and there was nothing I could do but sit there and watch.

And so now, on my days off, I sit here tending to myself with fluids, rest and a roll of toilet paper for my nose as I contemplate the going ons that have brought me to this point today. I can’t say I am particularly surprised to be in this position. The last two months have been a complete 3-ring circus of happenings – some of which have made me want to pinch myself to confirm I haven’t been dreaming it up.

Our new team with our Macpac Sponsored jackets

Kellie and Duncan, the new camp managers, have arrived and are quickly settling in – not so much due to the ease of transition, but more from the fact that they were simply handed the reins and told to jump right in. Their first weeks of being managers at the camp have included nearly every disaster scenario that could possibly happen, short of the entire camp burning down. Between trying to figure out (and then catch up on) the accounts, learning our ridiculous paper-format booking system, dealing with a group booking that decided to turn the camp into their near-rave party, handling a school of mischievous children and just generally trying to run the camp – it’s been a busy few weeks.

The most interesting bit that they (and the rest of us as staff) have had to deal with is a few rogue volunteers. We had welcomed a couple of backpackers with open arms two weeks ago to come and help us out in exchange for accommodation. None of us had any warm fuzzy feelings about these two, but couldn’t put our finger on what it was to feel confident that we should kick them out. And so we all kept our eye on them, the nagging feeling that something wasn’t quite right building up throughout the week. By the end of the week, us as staff had a sit-down and discussed our issues with the two newbies. Every issue seemed insignificant on its own, but when we added all our complaints together, we were happy with the decision to get rid of them the following day.

That day came and while we were waiting for them to start their shift, Kellie and I decided to snoop around their cabin to confirm our suspicions that they were smoking there after being told not to. It wasn’t difficult to find the multiple cigarette butts lying all around the cabin, but what peaked our interest was the open window with their cabin key lying on the window ledge. Seeming a bit strange, we peaked our heads in, only to find that there wasn’t a scrap of personal belongings left in the cabin. The two had buggered off.

Originally we had been told they had planned to meet someone in town for breakfast that day before coming to help out the camp. As such, they had used the camp’s bikes – but having seen the empty cabin, we immediately knew that they had not just taken off; they had taken off with our bikes. Kellie and I immediately went on the hunt for them in town, on the off chance that they were still around. With no luck finding them or the bikes, we stopped off at the police station to file a report.

Back at the camp, a few hours later and still fuming about being duped by a couple of volunteers, the cop we had talked to gave us a call. Apparently the two people we had let stay with us were quite well-known with the police and had a few warrants for their arrest. Perfect.

It wasn’t until the next day that we heard news that the police had found our two outlaws holed up in Greymouth. To top it off, one of them admitted the location of where they dumped the bikes and so we were able to get those back as well. Had they not stolen the bikes, they probably would have still been on the run without the cops behind them.

Needless to say, it was a good learning experience for all of us. Up until this point, we had relied on the fact that all international volunteers with a working holiday visa would already have a police check done to be able to get in New Zealand. It was the Kiwis that we hadn’t quite figured out what to do. Since this incident, we have tightened up on our recruiting process by implementing a mandatory Police Vetting check on all local volunteers, just to ensure we don’t have a repeat incident. In this case, we were lucky it was only our bikes that were stolen.

Linda & Prajot

Not all happenings at the camp have been bad though. Linda, another one of our volunteers, and Prajot (Activity Hanmer) have recently gotten married. It was a brilliant wedding and celebration of two people who are made to spend their lives together and we were all excited to be a part of it. Getting married in the forest and then with the celebrations back at the camp – I felt priviledged to be able to be the photographer for their big day.

As well, I have been able to help out with two big races in Hanmer Springs, learning more about event management as I go – which has in turn helped me with planning the big fundraiser for the camp next January. As exhausting as it has been, it has been incredibly fascinating to learn what works and what doesn't in the world of events. With any luck I’ll be able to soak all the info up and use it in my future plans.

I suppose the latest news has been with Lucy. I have finally been able to take Lucy to the vet to get fixed, which will allow her to go outside more without me worrying about the potential of little cat-babies running around. Plus, I can make her an outside cat and no longer need to use a litterbox. All went relatively smooth until I got a call from the vet about to do the surgery who informed me that Lucy was in fact a boy. Shows how much I know. The only comfort I received was that apparently it happens quite frequently because kittens are hard to tell the sex. Go figure.

The rest of the day I spent mulling over new cat names as I figured keeping the name “Lucy” with a pink collar was a bit much. So I came up with Kaeto, naming him after the character in Pink Panther. It works – so aside from my poor cat going from a girl to a boy to an “it” all in one day, he is recovering quite well. I only wish I could say the same.

Everything hurts and my nose is running a marathon today. With any luck it’s all just a sign of everything settling down into a sense of normalcy for a while. Fingers crossed this next week is stress free.