There and Back Again

Hello friends,

I've been home for a week now, so I suppose that it is time to wrap this puppy up. I arrived swine-flu free back to the South Island, after a much more roller-coaster like ferry ride and a very long, drawn out train ride. I managed to walk in to Sue and Gordon's house just in time for dinner, which was, as usual, fantastic.

The next day was spent doing laundry, uploading photos, and packing. I am wowed at how much stuff I acquired during my brief time away. It also reminded me of how much stuff I have in general. I am presently spending my time working on that, by the way. If any of you need stuff, let me know, and stuff you shall receive.

Finally, my last day in Christchurch arrived. I walked to good ol' UCANT to pick up books that I had loaned professors and take my last sniff of butter chicken from Spice Traders. I made it back just as Gordon arrived to take me to the airport. And so the longest day of my life, literally, began.

It was just an hour up to Auckland, but we had to wait there for several hours before our plane left from the same terminal that we had arrived from. It struck me as being very appropriate that when we first arrived in Auckland, we watched the sun rise and chattered I'm sure much to the chagrin of our fellow travelers, "Look! I'm _____ IN NEW ZEALAND" that on this long day, we watched the sun set on Auckland and instead almost mournfully whispered things like, "Guys, this is the last time I'm ___________ in New Zealand," granted, we were all pretty jazzed to get back to the States, too.

All in all, the flight was long, customs is much more slack coming into the US than it is going into NZ or Aus, but security is much tighter. We had forgotten that and looked like total dweebs--"Oh, we have to take our shoes off?" "Wait, why do I have to take off my big baggy sweatshirt?" "What do you mean I have to dump my water!" Also, nobody working stateside in an airport ever smiled. Not even at customs, where there was a few big posters pledging that the workers would welcome us to the US. My worker grunted at me and it took me forever to figure out that he wanted my passport. At first I thought he was going in for an awkward handshake. Crabby old coot.

It turns out the United States went on without us--people still stomp around, frown and avoid polite eye contact, and LA is still the filthy sphinctor of this great nation. I have missed it.

I left Christchurch at about 4 pm on Monday and touched down in Chicago at 12:05 Tuesday morning. After a joyful reunion with my mom, we headed north and rolled into my driveway at 4:30am Tuesday morning. Hot dawg, it's good to be back.

I have enjoyed blogging. Keep your eyes peeled for what I come up with as my next big blog-worthy adventure.

Well, I (ng) Ton!

And now I'm up to date! Hurrah!

-Zoo fun
-Bus
-Drivers are still friendly
-Tram bus system
-Conversation with Zoo Educator
-Sunbear
-Red Panda (that I didn't feed)
-Baboons
-Te Papa
-Collosal Squid
-Wandering
-Soup Lunch
-Andria and The Phoenix Foundation (Harry Potter 8?)
-Dinner and the Rugby

Tomorrow is going to be a long day of ferries, trains, and good byes. I'll see y'all soon!

Only boys who wear their Wellies have a chance with me

Day 4.
Driving.
Driving.
Curvy roads
I napped sometimes.
Mountains.

WELLINGTON!
-Mega Downtown Backpackers
-Comparison of Backpackers and Northland
-Khmer food
-Saw The Reader

Rollin' in Rotoroa

Rotoroa
-Smells like Sulphur
-ZORBING!
-ZORBING!
-ZORBING!
--hydrozorbed
----(best thing ever)
-Waiotapu
-Lauren drove
Napier
-Wally's Backpackers
-Fighter jet bed spread
-Monteith
-Curry Fried Rice
-Best sleep over ever

It takes two to Tui

Wanganui
-Pet pukeko
-Mug
-Bakery
-Best Park ever
-TO TAUPO!

Taupo
-Hike
-Two-e Tui
-Lisa key drama
-Waterfall (not really)
-Dip in the hotsprings at night
-To Rotoroa!

Rotoroa
-Funky Green Voyager
-Grocery List
--Fejoas
--Yogurt
--Camembert
--Crackers

Ferrying my way to the North I-a-land

Train
-Cute little boy
-Observation deck
-Seals Galore

Ferry
-BIG
-Rainbow
-...BIG..
-Awful Milkshake
-Marlborough Sounds
-Open Water
-Nap in Cafe
-Revist Cute little boy
-Car Rental
-To Wanganui!

Wanganui!
-not Fanganui
-BEST HOSTEL EVER (Anndione's)
-Kebabs
-Mythbusters

For now, I'm going to try publishing everything with only the bare minimum of information. I promise that I'll fill in detail later, but until then, I invite you to make up your own stories (and email them to me if they're good!)

Radio NZ

I have reason to believe that the whole of New Zealand radio and even bar music exists on one continuous loop of the same few songs.

New Zealand's soundtrack:

Heart of Gold
Romeo and Juliet (that new Taylor Swift song)
The New Jason Mraz song where it sounds like he's saying "Well you've done dung" etc.
Somebody to Love by Queen
Always on my Mind by Tiki Tane
Bohemian Rhaspody
...and that pretty well accounts for it.

Perhaps you can tell, but I've been road tripping as of late on the North Island (updates to follow within the next few days...before I actually leave this country), and we've been listening to a lot of radio. There is typically only one station that that comes in half way. Fortunately, we're in Wellington now, though, and we get I think three stations--yay!

Comparison

Samantha Russell
International Studies
April, 2009
NZ-US Comparison



The United States through a Funhouse Mirror
(subtitled Samantha rambles semi coherently for far too long)



Life in New Zealand, at first glance, isn’t all too different from life in the United States—everyone speaks English, the building structures are familiar, and heck, even some of the fauna is familiar—house sparrows, starlings, black birds, rabbits, etc. However, upon further examination, one finds that New Zealand is more like a parallel universe version of the United States. Yes, everyone speaks English, but one still has trouble understanding what is being said. Yes the buildings look the same, but the floors are numbered differently, and often the doorknob isn’t where it should be, and don’t even get me started on driving habits! In the following paper, I will address and compare two important aspects of life between New Zealand and the United States; transportation and food.
I know I alluded to the fact that I may rant on and on about what scary drivers New Zealanders are, however, I do not intend this to be the focal point of my comparison—there exist some pretty reckless drivers in the United States as well. I will address public transport, self-propelled transport, and, as automobiles.
Christchurch, much unlike Stevens Point, or really, the majority of the United States has a fantastic intra-city network of transportation. It is easy to travel from the outskirts of town to the city centre, and relatively easy to find one’s way back home. Perhaps this has something to do with the size of Christchurch, however, even with the limited bus service of Stevens Point, such ease of transport is unheard of. The service along with the people one typically travels with, I’ve been told by Philip Catton, has become a bit, as the kiwis say, dodgey, however, whenever I’ve been “commuting” I have found that my fellow bus goers, regardless of their state of sobriety, have been polite and respectful on the bus. Everyone, from the school children in the mornings to the sketchy drunk men on the last bus towards my home, never fails to thank the bus driver with a, “Ta,” “Cheers, mate,” or even a plain old “Thank you, driver,” before stepping off of the bus. I have my doubts that this would happen anywhere in the United States, not even in the Ashland/Washburn county B.A.R.T (Bay Area Rural Transport) system.
Even more impressive, is that it is incredibly easy for one to travel between cities via bus. On the news, I’ve heard tell of many busses regularly making rounds from Picton all the way down to Invercargill. I’ve even personally used transport between Christchurch and Akoroa. While these services are offered by private corporations and are a bit more expensive than the city bus, the pricing is still reasonable and highly encourages many to refrain from renting individual vehicles and instead use mass transit. Though the services, I am sure, are geared more towards the touristy set, the “locals” use the service as well. While en route to Akoroa, I met a young girl—roughly aged nine—who was explaining to me that she uses this shuttle every other weekend to visit her father, who lives quite a ways away. Reliable, easily accessible, inter-city transport would be an asset to Wisconsin as well as to the United States.
As a result of green-washing, I was under the impression that Christchurch would be far more bicycle friendly than it is. It is easy to bike in Christchurch, don’t get me wrong, it is a flat city with plenty of sidewalks and not-so-busy roads that will get me where I need to go. However, there are bike lanes. Initially, this seems like a fantastic idea! Save the pedestrians by getting the cyclists off the sidewalk and giving them their own lane. Initially, I loved this idea. However, not long after I began biking around Christchurch were my dreams dashed to pieces. It is alarming, and frankly dangerous, to be biking along and to be passed by a semi-truck full of cows or other similar livestock. My balance was disrupted and I was a bit disoriented by the noise and suddenness of it all. Bad things could have happened. The bike lanes in Christchurch are often flanked on either side by traffic lanes. This makes biking neither an appealing option nor a safe one. In the United States, and in Stevens Point especially, concessions are slowly being made to the cyclists, though other places are less fortunate. It would be prudent to learn from the alarming nature of Christchurch’s biking lanes, and design other places to be more cyclist friendly.
Cars, I’m sure grudgingly, are a popular mode of transportation in New Zealand. However, the busy streets, aside from behemoth semi-trucks, are packed mostly with small, fuel-efficient cars—not the gigantic, monstrous, ill-used trucks and sport-utility-vehicles that are so common on American roadways. Even more surprising about these vehicles is the awareness they have of those travelling outside of metal boxes around them. Motorists in New Zealand actually observe cross walks here, and will go to great lengths to actually stop and wait for pedestrians to cross through them. In the United States it would seem that cross walks are more zones where pedestrians can cross, and in the case of an accident, can legitimately sue the motorist.
Food is a highly important thing for people in both New Zealand and the United States. I was and am still happy to sample the differences between what passes as what between the two cultures. The largest differences I have found can be categorized into beverages, availability of unique products, and restaurants.
Tea is the hot drink of choice it would seem, from herbal tea (pronounce the h) to stand old gumboot tea. The affection of New Zealanders to this beverage accounts for a great deal of money spent on tooth whitening products, I am sure. Unfortunately, the love of such leaf based brews leaves New Zealanders a bit blind to the American hot drink of choice—coffee. Coffee in this country is simply awful. It amounts to something similar to what one would find running in sewers with some frothed milk on top. There is however one endemic beverage that, if it isn’t horrible, at least I’ve grown accustomed to. That is, the flat white. The flat white initially looks and sounds like an average latte. However, it would seem that in order to make it what it is, the milk must be burnt or scalded until it is very nearly crispy and the espresso shot(s) must be made from old grounds in a poorly packed filter. Hot Dog!
Milk, an important addition to both coffee and tea, is something of question here. While New Zealand is quickly becoming the dairy source of Oceania, the concept of freshness seems to be beyond New Zealanders. Milk here, instead of being pasteurized and served practically out of the teat like in Wisconsin, is rendered to milk powder and then reconstituted for sale domestically and abroad. This leads to such shocking sights as milk being stored in grocery stores as a dry good, or finding milk in the pantry in one’s home. This also leads to an indescribable, awful taste to the milk. It is like one is drinking abominations of the industrial revolution. Other differences of note in the beverage sector include that sprite here is called lemonade and sodas don’t taste only like high-fructose corn syrup—something manufacturers in the United States ought to take note of.
Lamb, kumara, and feijoas are common ingredients in everyday dinners in New Zealand. The availability and expenses involved with these products make the consumption of such goods in many parts of the United States at best impractical and at worst impossible. Prices of lamb at the right time of year, in New Zealand, can be cheaper than any turkey or chicken products—meats that are typically fairly cheap in the United States. Given the volume of sheep in this country, this is not surprising. Kumara, a sweet potato introduced by Maori settlers, is also a very popular addition to a hearty autumn’s meal, either as a mash, a soup, or just roasted. It most certainly would fill the niche of the American yam. Feijoa is just coming into season now, so it is a recent addition to my dietary repertoire. Feijoa is a semi-tropical fruit that one eats plain by cutting it in half and scooping out the innards, by eating it minced on ice cream, or by brewing it into a tea. It has quite a musky taste, and I can think of nothing to compare it to. Also of note is the ease of which one can access good, bad, or mediocre Indian food in this country. This is probably a result of a higher Indian population than occurs in much of the United States. Frankly, after trying butter chicken, and other fantastic curries, this is tragic.
-Restauraunts and tips


Works Referenced


Butler, Sue. New Zealand - Culture Smart! a quick guide to customs and etiquette (Culture Smart!). London: Kuperard, 2006.

Gone to Gondwanaland. 25 Apr. 2009 .

Heavenly Creatures. Dir. Peter Jackson. Perf. Kate Winslet and Melanie Lynskey. DVD. 1994.

Sione's Wedding. Dir. Christ Grahm. Perf. Oscar Kightley and Iaheto Ah Hi. DVD. 2006.

Thompson, Christina. Come on Shore and We Will Kill and Eat You All A New Zealand Story. New York: Bloomsbury USA, 2008.

Wolfe, Richard. “The People’s Bird.” New Zealand Geographic. Jan/March 2000. Vol. 45. p. 12-21.

Racism and Name Changes

In New Zealand, there as been discussion recently of changing the name of the North Island from "The North Island" to "Te Ika a Maui" or, “the fish of Maui”, based on the Maori myth that the island was formed by Maui’s (a god) gigantic catch. The South Island will no longer be refered to as The South Island either, rather "Te Wai Pounamu"--the land of the greenstone, a sacred jade-y looking rock. Frankly, I think that the Maori names are much more charismatic than North Island and South Island, though they are a bit more laborious to type and say. I also don't think that anyone loses any skin off of their noses for the change, and that those who like North Island and South Island would be able to continue to refer to the islands as such without any reprecussions.

However, there is a girl I know, for anonymity's sake, we'll call her "Pamantha." Pam is living with a fairly conservative familiy presently and they have no soft spots for the Maori (or African Americans--definately not Obama fans, or homosexuals--that Tamati Coffey won NZ Dancing with the Stars last night was a tragedy on a number of accounts). Pam heard them talking this evening and was shocked at what she heard. Apparently, the name change is insulting to the English, who saved the Maori from eating eachother and destroying any sembelance of civilization on the islands. A visitor to Pam's dwelling even went so far as to say, "When will it fucking stop?" meaning that the Maori have gone too far with changing the official names of things to be more traditional (think Mt.Cook=Aoraki etc). Apparently, also the Maori are conspiring to take the land by naming it in their language and apparently, the implications of an indigenous people actually having some control of the land that has been colonized, is quite scarey.

I know that it is easy for me to be shocked and a bit judgemental about other's attitudes--I am an outsider myself after all, and cannot possibly have an understanding of the intricacies of Pakeha/Maori tensions. However, shocked I am. I always find racism shocking and am always surprised when it rears its ugly head--especially among people that I consider reasonably well educated and "urban"--rather than some back country red-neck who's never been more than 25 miles from home. But there it is, friends. No place is free from the evils of this world.

Heavenly Bodies

"Samantha? Is that you up there?" Philip (one of the Ethics professors) called up the stairs at 4:30 on morning, just after I had registered for classes at point. I ventured into the damp, frigid night in my pajmas (pardon, we're metric here...pyjamas) and bare feet to look through Philip's telescope. This morning provided a fantastic view of Jupiter and four of its moons, as well as a view of Neptune, myriad nebulae, and a neat look at the moon. It was a good night.

When the schist hits the fan

The sounds of Kea and bitty little Tomtits filled the air as my group--a mix of four other co-travelers and myriad Europeans--climbed through the rainforest. When I say climbed, I mean climbed. We forded glacial fed rivers, we climbed up water falls, and we scuttled as quick as we could through rock slide areas where we were most strongly advised to grab the chain "railing" with both hands. At long last, we reached a bed of schist. We were handed Alpine stocks and told to get our crampons on. After a quick briefing, up the ice stairs we went and there we were; on the Fox Glacier.

Our guide (an Australian of course--because there aren't any actual Native New Zealanders in this country), was an old hand and happy to show us all sorts of wonders--moulins crevasses, tunnels, ice caves--you name it, we saw it. We also had the privilage of hiking through an older crevasse and the option to throw rocks into cracks to see how long it took to hear them hit something. I was struck by the most brilliant, fantastic blues that I have ever seen and was only sure that death was immenent once--we had less than a foot wide of a trail to walk on and if we fell or slipped, down into a crevasse we would have gone. It turns out that dying on a glacier is not in my top ways to go list--at least with bungee jumping or skydiving, it's one hit and lights out. On a glacier, you slip, are likely paralyzed somehow, and stuck in the dark and cold for a couple of days until you finally wink out--I'd rather be attacked by a shark.

It got a little cold and uncomfortable when it poured buckets for half an hour--fortunately the guide company provided rain gear and I remained reasonably dry but for my feet.

It was fantastically bizzare to see the rainforest through glacial crests, but awesomely beautiful at the same time. The hike back was a little rough as by that time my muscles were putting up quite a fuss for all of the rigamorole that I put them through, but we managed and lived to see another day.

Rainforest to Glacier

On this day, we took an optional hike to the Franz-Josef glacier where we met up with two UWSP grads (Tina and Ian) who managed to score some sweet temporary jobs with the Department of Conservation (something for me to consider in my near future).

That the road to where we were going had been washed out and was only recently re-opened should have been taken as a sign--not a bad sign, just a sign. The hike was a prime example of a game some co-travelers and I have dubbed "not a trail." IT was fantastic! We went ankle deep in mud, climbed some water falls, forded a few icy rivers of glacial melt, and had to hop, skip, and jump our way across some deeper sections of trail. I hadn't expected the hike to involve so much climbing, either. Well, I suppose if we're going to be technical, it was bouldering. I loved every damp, muddy, bruising second of it! All of it was through a temperate rainforest with the pleasant sounds of bell birds and tomtits all around.

We had lunch on the trail infront of a small lake that majestically reflected the mountains and the glacier and then proceeded to climb what I'm pretty sure may be the world's longest hill at a most uncomfortable gradient.
Because Tina is considered a guide, she was able to read conditions and safely take us right up to the face of the glacier, where we took a few group shots and generally had a grand ol' time--after more extreme hiking of course.

Afterwards, Dr. J treated us to a lovely pizza dinner and festivies and good times were had by all.

I've given up on posting pictures--my apologies. Facebook albums will have to suffice.
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=75173&id=500764078&l=c93257275d

West Coast Rules

I found my way into Hari Hari's school gymnasium just sdown the raod. I was greeted by a mixture of my co-travelers and the locals--a thick-necked, blunt faced, large handed rugby player' a squirrely little sheephand; a woman who brought her three week old son (Oliver) with her, and myriad other kiwis. I was glad to find that I was not out of place in my union suit, a pair of denim shorts (because my posterior button is missing), chacos, and a stocking cap to keep my hair out of my eyes.
Backetball in this country is much more physicall than basketball in the States. NOt to pretend that I have anything but the most rudimentary understanding of basketball in the US, but I had an even harder time this evening figuring out what was going on. I loved it. It ended with a Speights in the schools gym, and though we lost, we have another shot at it on Monday.

Photos from the Rematch-
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=75176&id=500764078&l=b8385d023d

Hari Hari

Presently, I have found myself at UC’s field station at Hari Hari on the west coast of the south island. The drive over was long, but gorgeous. We're here as the last stretch of our Environmental Ethics course. As always, it's lovely to get out of Christchurch and I do enjoy field stations. Three days in and this trip is FAR less emotionally charged than our last trek to a fieldstation. We have four more days though, so it's anyone's guess.
To get here we drove through the mountains and saw a lot of bridges that wouldn't count as bridges in the US. One in particular was a long one lane bridge over a braided river that was also a train bridge. Eeek! We also shared the road for a time with a cattle drive. We spent most of the 4+ hour journey singing to songs that nobody quite knew all of the words to. Favorites were "Walking in Memphis" and Third Eye Blind's (and one of my personal favorites) "Semi-Charmed Life."
Yesterday we went on a hike. The trail, technically, was closed because a good portion of it kind of fell into the sea. However, we followed the white-baiter's bushwacked trail and eventually met up with the main trail. It was good to get out and move some and it was pretty cool with the ocean on one side of me and Mt. Cook (Aoraki) and Mt. Tasman to the other side. I did get a sweet picture of a fantall, too. We spent what seemed like forever picking our way through boulders that weren't really a trail as the tide rose. We then walked across a moonscape, found quicksand, and re-wrote all of the songs that we could think of that contained the word, "girl" to have the word, "squirrel." It was a good hike.

Today it rained. It rained a lot. It stopped for a while and now it's raining again. Bucket loads of rain. Pouring raing. Rainy rain. I love it. I've missed rain. I can't wait for summer thunderstorms!

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=73998&id=500764078&l=1bf8bc1887

In addition, Philip brought his HUGE telescope and showed us Saturn and myriad nebulas. It was pretty sweet. Also, on Spaghetti night, Jane thought to push some tables together, through a table cloth on, and pick wildflowers and stick them in a vase. It was really nice.

Easter

Easter away from home wasn’t quite as heartbreaking as I had expected. Sue left me with a chocolate bunny before she went to Australia, but I was mostly alone. Fortunately, my co-travelers were in a similar boat. We opted to make fried rice together and attempt to do homework. We also enjoyed fried bananas on hokey pokey ice cream. Overall it was nothing like the egg rolling or ham eating of previous Easters, but it was a good, honest celebration of spring in the Northern Hemisphere…and zombies.

Tour of Christchurch

At long last, I found myself able to take a tourist day in Christchurch. I met up with Lisa and, less excited about our original intentions of becoming pierced and tattooed, we set out for adventures. We made our way to Cathedral square where we noticed an aquarium that he hadn’t yet been too—incidentally, had I not been stuck in school, I would have had ample time to volunteer there as well, as it is run by the same folks who run Orana. We saw sharks being fed, some cod, a native frog (Hamilton’s?), a kiwi, and some wicked freaky eels.

Next up was a ride on the tram. A 25 minute guided tour around the city with stops at attractions that were closed for the day, or we had already been to. It was good. We learned that Colombo is the longest street in Christchurch AND the capital of Sri Lanka. I don't think that the tram driver loved his job.

Lisa had coupons to canoe on the Avon River, so we thought we'd try that. Unfortunately, the place was closed by the time we got there. So was the Brewery--it was Easter Monday though.

We ended the day at Dux De Lux with a plate of Nachos. It was a lovely afternoon in the sun.

I apologize for the bizzare hodge-podge of pictures at the beginning. Something isn't quite right in my editing and my computer is reading the images as numbers, instead of images. They are still published as images, I just can't see them to arrange them attractively.

Contentment on a Seaseme Seed Bun (or, I suppose, if I must, "Cheeseburger in Paradise--and I don't mean Michigan")

Today was a grey, rainy, autumn day and I found myself lacking something as I waited in the drizzle for my bus at the Riccarton mall. I meditated a bit in my disconent and came to the conclusion that a cheeseburger would be most fantastic right at that moment. Immediately after that thought came the realization that I was just a hop, skip, and a jump away from the Golden Arches--yes, that's right, McDonald's rose behind me in all of it's red-tiled glory. And friends, I gave into temptation. I had another six minutes before my bus arrived, and they do call it fast food for a reason. I went over and sold my soul for a quarterpounder with cheese. While I was asked, "Do you want cheese with that?" (Incidentally, yes, yes I did), moments later, I skipped through the door and back into the drizzle to munch away my dissatisfaction.

I do not typically like fast food. Really, that I had egg mcmuffins this past winter on a couple of occasions is odd and a product of necissity (and perhaps, a lack of initiative on my part). In the past, I have actually felt ill after eating McDonalds (and Burger King, and sometimes Hardees, though a chili burger was nice after SCUBA). This time though, it was wonderful. The bun was lightly crisped and not at all soggy like I was expecting, the onions weren't to excess, and the ketchup was good ol' american ketchup, not this fruity watered down weird-o tomato sauce that I've come to expect with my chips.

Since eating that heavenly wad of grease, I think that I've developed at least 16 new zits, but it is worth it. It doesn't need to be repeated, that experience, but at that moment I experienced nothing but pure joy in ingesting Ronald McD's finest. A memory that I shall savor.

Native Frogs

Samantha Russell
Field Biology
New Zealand Conservation Issues
April, 2009


New Zealand’s Frogs are Croakin’!
(which is ironic, because native frogs don’t actually vocalize)

“When pesticides, agrochemicals and heavy metals find their way into ponds, streams and lakes, bad things happen to frogs,” said one article in New Zealand Geographic. New Zealand is no exception to this claim, and adds that bad things happen to frogs when new predators and new parasitic fungi are introduced, as well as when habitats are lost.
Native New Zealand frogs, like the much of New Zealand's fauna, are a bit different from their amphibious counterparts throughout the rest of the world. New Zealand's frogs don't have a tadpole stage--that is to say that they hatch as fully formed little froglettes--and are incubated and cared for, briefly, by their father. New Zealand frogs also don't have webbed feet--convenient as they don't require standing water or really much water at all to reproduce--nor do they croak which is convenient as they lack an external eardrum as well. These are all things that link New Zealand's frogs more closely to Jurassic era frogs; another remnant of New Zealand's Gondwanaland connection. Fossil records indicate that they have changed little over the past 150 million years.
Prior to any human colonizing New Zealand, fossil records show that there were seven species of frog; spread throughout the North and South Islands. However, presently, there are only four species of native frog, three of which are at a critical risk of extinction. As alluded to above, New Zealand native frogs are threatened by non-native fauna, pollution, habitat loss, and an introduced fungus; Batrachochytrium dendrobatidis (Chytrid).
There are two main sources of competition from animals introduced to New Zealand; the Kiori (Rattus exulans Peale) and the Eastern Banjo Frog.
New Zealand frogs evolved in conditions without any mammalian predators. That is to say, the frogs developed in an environment where their main predators were birds that hunted by sight. Therefore as a primary defense, New Zealand frogs simply freeze when threatened. The introduction of rats, and later other mammalian predators like weasels, stoats, and ferrets, sharply reduced frog populations. The frogs hadn’t developed evasive techniques or even defensive poisons to defend against these new predators and the consequences were tragic.
However, currently there is some research being done to determine whether or not mice pose a threat to New Zealand’s frogs. Maud Island Frogs were found to have successfully bred on the North Island and a comparative study of population survival is being carried out. If mice are found to not be a threat, a wide variety of new land will become available for potential frog introduction projects.
The Eastern Banjo frog introduced from Eastern Australia also poses a threat to New Zealand’s native frogs. The Eastern Banjo frog competes with native frogs for food and habitat, and has even been known to eat the smaller, native frogs.
Pollution is another huge threat to New Zealand’s native frogs. Because of the duality of an amphibian’s life (being that they thrive on both land and water) and because amphibians absorb much of the world around them through their skin, they are especially vulnerable to toxins. Runoff from agricultural centers, roadways, home yards, parking lots, etc carries poisons to the frogs where they are internalized and deformities occur. These deformities not only weaken the already dwindling gene pool of the frogs, but also reduce the number of frogs able to contribute to that gene pool. Runoff isn’t the only source of toxins that affect the frogs—all forms and types of pollution occurring in New Zealand, and globally, trickle down to affect frogs.
Habitat Loss is another issue that affects New Zealand’s native frogs. The frogs once were found throughout the damp forests of New Zealand. However, as Maori and Pakeha alike have altered the landscape in geologically recent times through burning, building, and conversion to sheep friendly land, the forests have dwindled as have the frogs.
The issues of global climate change are also affecting frog habitats, according to a New Zealand Geographic article. Much of New Zealand’s forests occur in and around alpine zones. As the world warms, alpine regions also warm, and are moved to higher elevations and are thusly reduced in size. This limits native frogs’ habitable regions.

Sign at Orana Park by S. Russell

According to Bruce Waldman and Julian Motha, Batrachochytrium dendrobatidis or Chytrid is a fungus that infects keratinized (for example, the epidermis) tissues of the host. Most types of Chytrid are not known to infect vertebrates, so it is unusual and a bit alarming that it has been found in frogs. Waldman and Motha say that, “Many consider Chytridiomycosis a new emerging infectious disease that may be driving global amphibian decline and species extinctions.” They also mention in their article that something may be affecting amphibians globally that is reducing their ability to fight off previously manageable pathogens.
Chytrid is thought to have entered New Zealand through the pet trade—non-native tadpoles carrying the fungus may have been released and transmitted the fungus to the native population Other possible transmitters of the disease include on the boots, field gear, fishing equipment, boats, etc. Waterfowl have also been cited as potential transmitters.
Further investigations into the transmission, causes, and effects of Chytrid are currently being done throughout New Zealand, with quite a bit going on at University of Canterbury.
Presently, the exact numbers of all four species of frog are unknown—it’s awfully hard to do a frog census, when no one is croaking. However, two species (Archey’s frog and Hamilton’s frog) are listed as New Zealand Nationally Critical, the Maud Island frog is Nationally Endangered, and Hochsetter’s frog is listed as at risk. Archey’s frog is listed as a number one conservation priority by the international Evolutionary Distinct and Globally Endangered program due to its genetic distinctiveness. New Zealand’s Department of Conservation suggests that individuals can help preserve frogs by reporting any sightings of native frogs, photographing them if at all possible, and recording the type of habitat, time, and date that the frog was sighted in. The DOC also implores individuals to avoid touching the frogs. These actions taken to help generate more information about the frogs, along with efforts to curtail pollution, carbon output, habitat encroachment and the spread of non-native predators can help to preserve and protect these highly unique remnants of Gondwanaland.


















Works Cited

“DOC’s Work with Frogs.” http://www.dog.govt.nz/conservation/native-animals/reptiles-and-frogs/frogs/. 4 April 2009.

Hansford, Dave. The New Zealand Listener. “A Great Leap Forward?” November 2006.

Hansford, Dave. New Zealand Geographic. “Two degrees from Oblivion.” Sep/Oct 2008.

“Tiny NZ frog leaps into conservation history.” http://www.newzealand.com/travel/media/press-releases/2008/2/08_feb_29_nzfrogshatch_pressrelease.cfm. 29 Feb 2008.

Waldman, Bruce, and Julian Motha. Surveillance. “Chytridiomycosis in New Zealand Frogs.” 28(3) 2001.

Assimilation?

As I was biking home yesterday, I was thinking about what I could write about to update the blog. This past weekend, I saw a documentary at a DocFest in town, had some standard curry, and went to the Sunday market with Sue, Andria, and Lisa. That none of these seemed spectacular and in need of immediate blog attention, I think demonstrates some sort of a shift in my New Zealand experience. I think that perhaps, I've developed sense of the swing of things. In one way, this does make my experience slightly less magical--not everything is shiny and new anymore. In another way, however, it's a new sort of magic. I like it. Though, I am still looking forward to Wisconsin again.

Also, how excellent is it that I live in a place where I can rate curry? I love that the most.

A quick comment on corgis

Honestly friends,

What kind of city has a flock of corgi statues?

This is a charmed world in which we live.

Kiwis being kiwis eating kiwis while worrying about the kiwi population

Samantha Russell
New Zealand Society and Culture
International Studies 381
March, 2009

What do you do when you see a Kiwi eating a Kiwi in a Kiwi reserve?: A history and potential explanation as to how New Zealanders became Kiwis.

It is possible to examine the process of the kiwi identity using Roland Barthes’s ideas on myth and signification. According to Barthes, myth operates on two levels of signification. The first level is how a society or culture assumes a common understanding of the signified of any sign. In this instance, the way kiwi signifies New Zealand. However, Barthes points out how this signification leads to another level of signification. This, for Barthes, is where myth, or, ideology, takes place. In this case, kiwi as a nation identity signifies supposed New Zealand traits such as rugged individuality, adaptability, and ingenuity. So the transition from the kiwi as a nocturnal, flightless, whiskered bird to the kiwi as a national symbol and as a synonym to the individualistic people of a nation is a process of myth-making and the unthinking adoption of this by people is an example of the creation ideology. This demonstration of the creation of a kiwi ideology is best explained and demonstrated through three categories; commercially, or how products and money have contributed; through war; or how entering the war theatre and mingling with other nations has helped to create ‘The Kiwi’; and through sport; and the uses of a mascot to form an identity.
The myth of New Zealanders as Kiwis is first and foremost best expressed through commercialization. Advertisements serve as reinforcements and for the proliferation of stereotypes, as well as to invent catchy little phrases that simply won’t leave your head. Through advertisements and products, it is easy for one to develop a sense of how the world works, why it is the way it is, and what one’s place within in the world is—whether or not these ideas put forth by advertisement are in anyway how the world actually is. New Zealanders are no exception to this, and in this portion of the essay, I will out line a few examples of how the presence of kiwis (as the bird) in advertisements and other commercial concepts may have helped to create the myth of Kiwis as kiwis—especially through shear exposure to these unfathomably charismatic little critters.
At the root of all commercial endeavors is money—and the commercial aide of transforming New Zealanders into kiwis is most certainly no exception. In 1934, when New Zealand released its very own currency for the first time, what else but a kiwi bird appeared on the two-shilling coin, the ten-shilling coin, and even the one-pound note. This made the image of the bird a part of every day New Zealand life, and while I am sure that those folk from the United States would never refer to themselves as “Washingtons,” it is not hard to see how, with this root, it may not be that far from possible. Additionally, during New Zealand’s economic upheaval in the mid and late 1980’s, when New Zealand’s currency was floated, New Zealanders further identified it as “the kiwi.”
The odd and slightly alarming thought of Kiwi Bacon also plays into the commercial evolution of the kiwi as a people (even more alarming, when re-inserted in the bacon context). Around about 1921, Mr. Thomas Fenton took on the avian kiwi as a symbol to be associated with his line of porcine cured-hams and bacon. Eventually, this peculiar association of bird and bacon grew, and became the dominate producer of New Zealand’s pig products. By the 1960’s, Fenton’s company further cemented its strange identification with the kiwi by installing gigantic fiber glass and steel birds that rotated above each of the company’s four factories. These enormous birds became land marks and even the subject of pride to local New Zealanders.
Many human kiwis of a certain age remember with fondness the “Good Night Kiwi” that signaled the end of the television broad-cast day, reminding New Zealanders to set out the milk jugs and head off to dream land. Apparently, the facts that this bird is nocturnal and, being avian, would never drink milk and the ironies associated therein are a bit lost on the population. However, this again serves as evidence of the ubiquitous nature of the bird and the ease of which it can be integrated into popular culture.
Finally, perhaps the premiere integration of a ridiculous bird into commercial consumer culture and as an aspect of New Zealanders identifying with the kiwi is that of the ever popular, omnipresent, Kiwi shoe polish. Once upon a time a nice girl from Oamaru married an Aussie bloke and moved to Melbourne. There, the Aussie bloke developed a new boot polish. In need of a short, memorable, and easy to pronounce name, Mr. Aussie bloke (William Ramsay), in a likely effort to impress his lady, struck on Kiwi. The boot polish took off and by 1917 the Kiwi Boot Polish Company had received a colossal order from the British Army. Despite being an Australian invention, this boot spiffer-upper first introduced New Zealand to the world as being a land of kiwis.
So the above examples serve as evidences and examples of how the commercial use of the kiwi as a bird has given New Zealanders a symbol with which to identify. This makes it easier for the sign that is signified by the signifier to warp and mutate from an odd bird, to the people of a nation.
Because New Zealand is a nation that is separated by massive volumes of ocean from the rest of the world, New Zealanders weren’t exactly known as being anything throughout the world. Names like Fernlanders, Maorilanders (how interesting that a nation could potentially be named by its indigenous peoples), and En Zedders were tried and didn’t stick, but it took a world war to introduce New Zealanders to the rest of the world and open them up to an array of names. This is where the world thought to change what it signified when it spoke the word, “Kiwi.”
Picking up on Kiwi boot polish, this ubiquitous image introduced international soldiers to this icon, and in the name of mateship and military camaraderie, the shoe polish allowed this name to be applied to the New Zealand soldiers. The New Zealand soldiers didn’t seem to mind this name, and during the First World War, helped to solidify their identity as kiwis by carving a giant kiwi into a chalk hill Flanders to mark the New Zealand territory of encamped troops. Also during the first world war, kiwi (the bird) started appearing in political cartoons to represent New Zealanders and the cartoons were often seen saying cheeky things like, “Seems rummy; me going to fight a Turkey.” Apparently, as with many things about the kiwi, the irony of being a kiwi was lost on young New Zealand pilots. However, the kiwi did appear prior to World War I as a military emblem. In 1886 and 1887 the kiwi appeared on the badges of the South Canterbury Battalion—a volunteer military core.
Military sport teams, especially the New Zealand Army Football Team toured the British Isles and Germany in 1945 and 1946 traveled as the Kiwis. If the war had not popularized the term, this tour certainly did.
Military identity, and being thrown into the world theatre by means of warring further helped New Zealanders to see themselves as something other than “not British” and New Zealanders. This further twisted the meaning of the sign kiwi into something larger both ideologically and physically than a bird.
As wars ended and troops returned to New Zealand, sport replaced the military as how the outside world viewed New Zealanders.
Unlike other nations that had charismatic mammals to chose as mascots like buffalo, springbok, and the lion (well, Britain never had lions, but they can pretend if they must), New Zealand had nothing. They had two species of bat, but bats aren’t exactly known for their athletic prowess—one can imagine the jeers associated with a bat mascot, “You’re blind as a bat!” “Aww, mate! You’re going batty!” New Zealand also had seals. Another animal that is not known for its sportiness. This leaves the bird world for mascot choosing. The Kaka and Kakapo are out based on name alone and Kea sounds far too girly. What’s really left that says, “New Zealand?” The Kiwi. Thus a fierce and intimidating mascot was born.
Though the kiwi lost to a plant (Oh, how fearsome that) as the symbol for the national sport of rugby, rugby league did honor to this avian friend by adopting it as their mascot. Much like United State’s citizens and their personal identification with their football team, “Oh drat! We lost the Super bowl!” New Zealanders identify a sense of self with “their” sports team.
Commercially, through war, and through sport, the transition has been made from the kiwi as a bird to represent the rugged, individualistic, self-reliant, and sometimes nocturnal people of New Zealand. As evidenced by the examples above and New Zealander’s reactions to the examples and evidences, New Zealanders have unthinkingly associated themselves, along with the rest of the world, as Kiwis. Despite an attempt on behalf of the Export Institute in 1985 to change the image of the kiwi to what amounted to be a fancy snail and a ponga frond, the kiwi remains. The sign has successfully been signified as a national identity by the signifier of the people.

Isn't that awful? That took far too much of my life to write. Never again.









Bibliography

“Kiwi-A kiwi country: 1930s-2000s.” Encyclopedia of New Zealand. March 2009. http://www.teara.govt.nz/TheBush/NativeBirdsAnd Bats/Kiwi/5/en.

“The Kiwi.” Nzs.com. 2004-2009. https://email.uwsp.edu/owa/redir.aspx?C=99d15a976a874e9aa4041586968960eb&URL=http%3a%2f%2fwww.nzs.com%2fabout-new-zealand%2fthe-kiwi%2f

Wolfe, Richard. “The People’s Bird.” New Zealand Geographic. Jan/March 2000. Vol. 45. p. 12-21.

Who are my professors?

Amy Fletcher- An American from Alabama (or something like that), a moderate republican, but justifiably so, taught our Environmental Policy class, has a passion for the biodiversity crisis, is passionate in general. If she taught at Point I would take every class she offered. I am heartbroken that her class has ended now. She worked on Capital Hill for a while.

Dr. J-Our leader from Point. I'm never sure how to spell either of his names. They seem to change. Taught our Field Bio class and is responsible for a handful of our International Studies credits. He knows plants and is highly passionate. Also had the most fun final I've ever taken--I got to draw pictures and make bulleted lists.

Jane Cooper-Ethics professor, don't know much about her yet. She's from England, lived in India for a long while. I'm unsure of how she ended up in New Zealand. She handles crisis very well, seemed like she enjoyed what she was doing. Very much a thinke (fitting, being a philosophy prof and and all), very blue if you know your personality colors.

Phillip Catton-The other Environmental Ethics professor. Has a very cool accent, Oregon and Brittish Columbia. He ended up in New Zealand with his family sometime in his teens. Very dedicated to Climate Change causes, his father was some important scientist in the early days of the Climate change movement, and his son is fixing the world through physics. Long winded, but highly passionate. I like hearing what he has to say. He started a conversation about ecosystems of bacteria in one's mouth, touched on glaciers and glaciation, and ended on riding your bike everywhere, even when it's raining, but then mentioned his philosophical crisis that caused him to buy a car.

Stephen Hardman-from the north of England, New Zealand Cultural studies professor. Repeats his stories, but they're hilarious. Studied in St. Louis for a while. Is highly sassy, very fun. Many of his stories about venturing into academia end with, "because I was nervous, I drank, and never got invited back" or "...and then we went to the pub." His wife is a prison guard and isn't impressed by his fancy talk--and he loves it all the more. Very helpful for writing that god-awful paper.

What's interesting about all of these guys? NON OF THEM ARE NEW ZEALAND CITIZENS! Maybe Phillip is, and Amy's thinking about becoming naturalized. While I like them all, I think it is absolutely fascinating that between either University's International Programs Department, they thought that it would be culturally appropriate and wise that we, as American students who are coming to this great nation to experience Kiwiana, should be separated from all other kiwi students, our schedules such that it is impossible to join any extracurricular activity, be taught by non-New Zealand professors. Where are the Kiwis? In our homestays--a bunch of old farts who are just taking on borders so they can go to Tonga on holiday. Keep in mind that I do like Sue and Gordon, and I don't really don't mean that, but I am just so surprised that this was the plan. I've managed to meet a couple of American students who are here on their own accord. Their home Uni's take the credit, the students still find all sorts of fab study tours, and they get to study what they choose--the cost is comparable to what we're paying. Maybe we got a deal on Airfare and they didn't go to Sydney...but still. UWSP IP, I've said it before and I've said it again, I am disappointed in you.

Kaikourra

<--Russell with a Hutton Shearwater Fledgling

^Dusky Dolphins

^View from Research Station

Taylor's Mistake

Our final biology field trip took place on a Saturday. We met up with Russell (a bloke who's last name escapes me) who teaches at UCant. and drove the boat around Kaikourra. He's worked with the Stevens Point crew before and is truly a man of the sea.

Bright and early we arrived at the beach to experience low-tide. People hang glided and parachuted above us while we learned about all sorts of mussels, examinded which filter feeders hang out where, how securely they're attached to their location, and what eats them. It was quite fun.

We also poked around within the actual pools and found snails, bitty crabs, and slug like things. A bigger crab scuttled out from the sand and harassed us for a bit as well. We also stopped back to Sumner Beach where I saw a man walking a Leonberger (a big, big, dog that Rehabber Mark from Minocqua rescues). A lovely day spent in the Saturday sun.

Orana: The Sequel--Son of Orana

I made it back to Orana one week after the first time and didn't go 6k out of my way this time--nor did I see any interesting road kill. It's a sad day when a hedgehog pancake doesn't make the interesting list anymore.

Instead of meeting a small group of rural school kids, I was met by 50ish city pre-teens. I smell the angst and hormones, or as I wrote in my notes, "chew the adolescent frustration." Sometimes, I'm poetic I guess. Anyhow, Toby was gone to a big ARAZA conference in Oz, so I shadowed Liz instead, and got to meet a lot of the rest of the Orana staff. It seems like it would be a really fun place to work and there is a healthy balance of screwing around and actual producitivity. It was Liz's first time teaching a program on evolution, and it was strange to her at least that it would be done with students so young. Because of concerns, many parents accompanied the kids.

The program wasn't at all what I expected it to be. It was mostly enforcement of "form follows function," which is really fun when you can point at animals and go, "Kids, think about this giraffe and where it would live in the wild. What do you know about giraffes that makes it suited to its environment?" and then going from there. By the way, I got to feed giraffes again and was thoroughly tasted myself by a giraffe. She's a saucy old biddy.

Something that I'm pretty sure would never fly in the US was a question Liz asked while we were by the big cats--"Would you rather be killed an eaten by a lion or by a cheetah?" She then used this question to talk about how large carnivores can occupy the same space without being in necessarily direct competition with eachother. By the way, Lion is the better choice. It's over before you even know it happened. Cheetah's chase, disembowl you, and then take a nap while you bleed out. Granted, if that's your thing, all the power to you.

I was late getting back to campus this time though, but didn't nearly get hit by an airplane, so it was a good day. I am very thankful for my experiences at Orana, and hope that if I find my way back to this country and need something to do, they will welcome me.

Heart of Whiteness

For the final field trip in Environmental Policy, we went to the Antarctica Center in Christchurch. Christchurch is considered one of the "Gateways to Antarctica" of the world, and is the port that the US uses (and I think a few other countries). Other Gateways are Capetown, South Africa, a city whose name escapes me in Argentina, and I believe there's an oddball in there. Perhaps not the informative sentence I've ever formed.

We were greeted and had a small lecture with Gabrielle who had the coolest accent I've ever heard. She's Chilean, has spent a whole bunch of time on The Ice, and works in the tourism sector. She had just gotten back two weeks ago. She spoke English with a strange hybrid of New Zealand and Chilean accenting. With her voice and her overwhelming passion for Antarctica, I could have listened to her all day.

Gabrielle gave us a series of funfacts (and actually elaborated on several issues, but if I explained them, you'd be here far longer than you intended to be). Because of the politics of nation sovereignty and a couple of countries are quietly (or maybe not so quietly, we live behind an information fog in the US) bickering about who deserves what, seven babies have been born in Antarctica so that a country can say that they have citizen's who trace their ancestry to The Ice. I love it. There's also a pact/regime to regulate tourism to the real down under, called IAATO, as well as issues about how wild Antarctica should remain. Some companies are letting people climb mountains that haven't even been named yet. Some tour companies are taking so many people on their boats that if the worst happens, and if all people somehow make it onto lifeboats, no science research station can house them until help arrives. Scary. There are also issues with who should get a modern day piece of the Antarctic Pie these days. It was last carved up pretty much during the Cold War. Are those claims still valid? One example of a player that wants in and why was Saudi Arabia; I guess they see Antarctica as a freshwater resource. That's kind of a big deal.

Overall though, it surprised me at how "doable" it seemed to get a job on The Ice or at least go for a visit in some capacity other than tourist, or even as a tourist. I will go there before it melts.

Other attractions about the center itself include a colony of rescued blue (faerie) penguins, and Hagland rides. The Hagland is the primary mode of transportation on the ice and the center offers rides to show how cool they are on this mock-up dirt course that includes nearly ninety degree hills (I'm only exaggerating a little) and crossing fairly wide crevasses, and even paddling across a deep puddle. I thought I was going to die--almost as fun as bungee jumping and skydiving. There was also a room where you could experience an Antarctic storm. It was really cool and filled with home made snow and had an ice slide that bordered on dangerous. The Antarctic storm was like walking to school in February when every other school in the district has cancelled school, but StePo stayed strong--pretty much no big deal. Gabrielle said that they kept it fairly warm so people didn't complain too loudly, and that people from Wisconsin, Minnesota, and the UP always say that.

Things that are a big deal

A couple things have struck me as being big deals while I've been here, and I've thought to share them with you. I invite you to email me your own, "Big Deals" in reasonably similar formatting, and I will paste and share them. Take a moment and let how much of a big deal these things are set in.


The Internet

Including Library data bases



China

wow they consume a lot of resources

Australia gives them coal

they have so much power! North Korea!



Russia

What are you doing Russia? Get that flag up off the ocean.

http://www.timesonline.co.uk/tol/news/world/europe/article5989257.ece

http://www.res.ethz.ch/news/sw/details.cfm?lng=en&id=98263

Hanmer Springs

Well, shucks you guys, this seems like forever ago. I should really keep up with this better. I'll do my best to provide an accurate account. I just fill in the blanks with made up stories--not different than usual. Also, I'm trying a new format where the text about the pictures isn't necessarily near the picture itself. Some may call it lazy, I'm calling it innovative.

Lauren, Mike, Dan and I set out in the Death Trap--Mike and Dan's new car. We were headed to Sue's childhood stomping ground,

Hanmer Spring--a smallish town best known for its thermal hotsprings. The original plan was to go camping. This was quickly dashed with the realization that not one of us had a tent nor did we have access to a tent that would sleep more than one of us--we're a tight knit group, but even we have limits. Instead we found a backpackers (what we would call a hostel) that offered us basically our own cabin for NZ$60 a night for all four of us. How could we pass that up? We even got our own private kitchenette that I made home-made "real" Mac&Cheese in. Yes, I am that good.

Prior to that, however, we decided to check out the local cuisine. We found Monteith's, a place with high-quality beer and solid desserts. I experienced a banouffle tart (or somthing like that) which was a heavenly combination of both banana and chocolate. One simply shouldn't be allowed to be without the other, as well as what amounted to shark vomit. While most sharks are welcome to puke in a bowl for me at any given time, this seafood chowder had mussels in it. I have since learned that

however badly I want to like mussels, it's just never going to happen.

Back tracking a bit, on the way from the "cabin" to town, we hiked on some pretty nifty paths through "the woods" and found some pretty baller mushrooms. I know very little about mushrooms, but I would say that these are the same kind as in the Mario games that make your character's size go up (or, if you're racing, give you a temporary speed boost). Either way, they were highly photogenic, and exciting to see. They were everywhere!

Ok, back to Saturday. Saturday we intended to sit in hotsprings and do nothing with our lives. We were incredibly sucessful in this endeavor. First, though, we found the town market, complete with traditionally dressed german folk dancing around to accordion music and banging sticks together. It was wonderful to watch and everyone seemed to be having a good time. Oh! While we're next to this picture, I managed to photograph a Tomtit--a native, and fairly rare native New Zealand bird. Kind of a like the fantail in that it sort of fills the chickadee niche,

but they're far less gregarious. Cute little guys, though, eh?

So, the Springs. There are no pictures of the Springs because I felt awkward taking pictures of the old, the foreign, the honey-mooning, and the decrepid sitting around in their swimming suits and various other states of undress. There were women walking around very nakedly in the changing rooms. Call me a prude, but really, I don't think that degree of nudity is carried out in public changing rooms in the US. Definitely and innapropriate place to be snapping photos. The Springs, too. However, they were lovely and soothing and sulfur-y stinky. The sun shone throughout the day and we found our way into pools that were only 26C and pools that were 40C. Scientists may argue that 100C is the temperature at which water boils. In my experience, I believe that it is closer to 40C. I did not stay in that pool very long.

At long last and with great reluctance, it was time to head back

to Chch. Given the less than sober state of the initial drivers, I offered to drive. It was then decided that we stop at every winery and microbrewery on the way back home--a "booze cruise" I guess the kids call it. We made it to one--Brew Moon Cafe. It was lovely and brilliantly done, very Earthy, but still warm. We ended up staying there for several hours while the boys sampled what the place had to offer, and buying Lauren and I coffees and smoothies to keep us from leaving without them. It was a good time and fun, deep, goofy conversations where had and silly songs were created and sung. The waitstaff was very tolerant, or perhaps, they even liked us. Finally, we ended our trip in Christchurch, arriving back around 10pm--only six hours later than we had intended. It was a much needed and well done excursion from the city. And we saw a pig farm.

<-- Deathtrap with all of our stuff

Bathing in the blood of Orangutangs

http://www.scoop.co.nz/stories/HL0703/S00377.htm

http://palmoilandtheenvironment.blogspot.com/2007/02/products-containing-palm-oil.html

http://www.angelfire.com/planet/palmoilproducts/

http://www.aucklandzoo.co.nz/education/default.asp?sectionID=428 <-Reputable

http://www.listener.co.nz/issue/3585/columnists/12662/the_bad_oil.html <-Reputable source, and reasonably unbiased

Run a search, you guys, this stuff is fascinating and there's tons and tons of information out there.





Friends, I have learned of a tragedy. Tim-tams, the most wholesome wonderful cookie that could possibly be mass produced in the great nation of New Zealand, are made with palm oil. "So what?" you ask, "Palm oil sounds like it's healthy for you! I'll bet it lends a tropical flair to your cookies!" Palm oil comes from palm trees (duh, Samantha). Palm trees come from palm plantations (uh-oh). Palm plantations, like all mono-crop fix-its, is leading to hardcore habitat loss (and ruining soils). In countries like Indonesia, palm plantations are replacing rainforest and habitat for great apes, sumatran tigers, and many other less charismatic animals. What can we do in New Zealand and abroad? Like with any environmental issue, vote with our money. Support alternatives, support locally produced cookies, support making your own cookies, support local farmers, support green initiatives, support social justice, support sustainable living. Many soaps, shampoos, lotions use palm oil, too. Orana park is part of promoting knowledge about palm oil. An interesting thing about New Zealand, I've heard some of the field trip moms complain about, is that companies don't have to be even close to as accurate about their ingredient labels as they do in the US and it is hard to know what one is getting.

Also, I know that many of the links I've provided aren't exactly, "Official" looking, but they aren't unnaccurate.

Lest you think I'm sitting still

Today, I trekked back to Orana Park--on my own this time.  I met again with Toby and shadowed a Zoo School tour.  It rocked!  

There was a group of 11 from an itty-bitty rural school aged 8-13ish.  I was told that it was the majority of the school.  They were very well behaved and were interested, despite it being day three of a week long trip.  There were about 7 parents and teachers with them, as well.  

The focus was on habitat, which was defined, a game was played to reinforce the concept, then students were asked to think critically and pick out elements of habitat within the enclosures we saw and compare them to "natural habitats."  

Not that it was all heady--I was allowed to allow a giraffe to strip a branch of leaves from my hand and pat its neck as well.  It was a good day.  I'll be going back next Thursday for a program on evolution. I'm really interested to see how it's presented an accepted.  Toby said that there isn't nearly as much drama with evolution here as there is in the States.  

I biked to Orana today, and only ended up going 6k out of my way.  It turns out that "first exit in the roundabout" doesn't always mean what you think it should.  I hate roundabouts.  I also saw a roadkill owl.  I was running late at this point, and didn't stop to photograph it.  Unfortunately, it had been moved by the time I headed back into town.  I did however, manage to finally get some decent shots of Australasian Harriers--they'll be posted soon enough.  I also was almost run over by an airplane taking off on the way back.  By almost, I mean it was probably a hundred feet about me.  Orana is past the airport, and as I was biking, the road barriers on either end of the road segment I was on dropped and an alarm went off.  I was in the middle of the segment and had no idea what was happening.  My guess was that an airplane was going to land, not take off, and I biked as a fast as I could while looking for a plane coming in.  It wasn't until I was nearly deafened by the roar of jets that I realized it was coming from the other direction.  A biker who was waiting outside the barrier laughed and greeted me as I went past.  Now I know better. 

Why there aren't snakes in New Zealand

St. Patrick eventually grew tired of the dreary winters in Ireland and retired to Fiji. Feeling restless and ill-used as he aged, he traveled to New Zealand one day and drove all of the snakes from here as well, and there was much rejoicing. Or not. That doesn't change that there aren't snakes in New Zealand or Ireland--here's why; http://nationalzoo.si.edu/Animals/ReptilesAmphibians/NewsEvents/irelandsnakes.cfm

Whether or not St. Patrick spent anytime down under, he is still quite popular here, or the celebration of him anyhow. There's an awful lot of pride for that catholic guy in this protestant scottish town. What an awful day to forget my camera--a reccuring theme this week.

As I arrive on campus, after first being assaulted by Flogging Molly and Dropkick Murphy songs blasting from several cars, I heard more celtic music. Outside of the bookstore/Spice Traders several of UC's own staff were jaming out--there were a couple of guitars, a bass, too many bodhrans, some spoons, penny whistles, a man who made schmaltzy trumpeting fit, and even a guy playing a saw. A group of very conservative looking muslim women joined the crowd watching, and clapped, whooped, and enjoyed along with the rest of us. Everybody, it seems, is Irish on St. Patrick's Day.

Surprise Field Trip

Here's today's drama: I don't know how to remove the highligher from this text. I suppose it'll all just have to look REALLY important. Granted, it is my writing, so I suppose it is.

Mondays, as you may have figured out, are fieldtrip days for Field Bio. They're really great, I have found. Especially, when you're told where your going. That helps one to determine if one should wear shoes with backs, bring a snack, or even snag their tourist camera and bird guide. However, in the name of surprises, it is fair that we weren't told. I do like surprises.

Dr. J was allowed to drive us in a UC bus. That alone was an adventure. First, there was quite a bit of drama in figuring out how to disengage the parking break, along with the fact that Dr. J was driving a big van in a country where they drive on the wrong side of the road (and I don't think I'm being unfair with that statement). Even as we got on the bus, the only thing he would tell us is that we were going back toward Akoroa, but he wouldn't tell us where. I suppose it was just a bit more build-up than was appropriate, but I most certainly wasn't disappointed.

At last, we arrived to see all the glorious 70 square miles of Lake Ellesmere--New Zealand's largest lake. Where we saw bunches of black swans, some rails (including pukekos), a hand full of comoronts, some plovers, and maybe even a tern or two. The original plan at our first stop was to wander a bit and have a lecture. Unfortunately, we ran over a hornet's nest which, due to their unhappy rioting outside the van, made it rather unsafe to leave the safety of our metal box. We discussed Algae bloom issues within the lake, that the Department of Conservation here digs to ensure that ocean water enters in order to remove said blooms, that the lake is brackish anyhow, and that it is a major source for eels. There seem to be Maori/Pakeha drama similar to Wisconsin's sturgeon drama, too. We also learned that New Zealand's three largest cities are basically in danger of being destroyed at any second (well, geological seconds). Auckland is near many active-ish volcanoes, Wellington sits on a fault, kind of like LA, and Christchurch could be nailed by a tsunami OR be destroyed by flooding from mountain melt off--almost like New Orleans...so if you come to New Zealand, watch out for that.

Our next stop was at a beach; though deemed unsafe for swimming due to waves, and, probably some sort of radioactive runoff, it said nothing about dipping one's toes in. Lisa and I did this, and were a bit caught off guard when the ocean suddenly rose to above our knees when a wave rolled in. Not at all in an unpleasant way, of course. We spent probably near to half an hour wandering around the flat, round stone beach.

We also stopped at some dunes, near the "spit," where there was another oppurtunity to mess around in the water. We took a pause to learn about plants.

Afterwards we took about a half-hour hike at the Okuti Scenic Reserve where we saw lots of Totara, Kahikitea, and tree ferns, among other native plants. No beeches though, we weren't high enough for them. We also heard a lot of different birds, but had trouble identifying them. Dr. J is convinced that there were Tui afoot, but I am less sure.

A highway shall be there

I have learned something very important while staying here; where there is a will, there's a way. I spent Saturday with some fantastic mushers who were kind enough to pick me up from home and drop me off so that they could share the sport with me.

After a lunch of KFC--not one of the fastfood chains I would have expected to find here--they took me out and introduced me to their pony, pigs, malamutes and siberians. They also show the dogs, so they were really quite fancy. It was weird though, as they lamented the fact that they couldn't breed their best lead dog because her eyes were goofy--marbled like Riggs' or Starbuck's, if you know either of those dogs. I don't really get dog shows, I suppose.

Jess, their three year old daughter, is the most articulate anklebiter I've ever met. She even started getting the scooters hooked up for the run! Apparently, she's old enough to "race" by riding a rig with her parents, but they've decided that she has to be able to control her own scooter sans dog first.

The actual ride was fantastic! I just had one dog--Stormy--hooked to the front, and we flew down the gravel road. It did occur to me that it would be horribly painful if I feel and was dragged--much worse than being dragged in the snow, which I have perfected into a graceful artform. Fortunately, it was much easier to keep balance than I thought it would be and I did not even come close to maiming myself.

The time came to head home. Unfortunately, the road was blocked by the neighbor's cows who had escaped. I got to drive a car, and with Nathan, managed to herd them home. It was a good time.