The Little Differences

After six weeks of observation, I thought I'd take a moment to reflect upon small differences that I've noticed here in language, culture, and everyday life in the last six weeks. The overall way of life and social norms are basically the same as the United States, but small differences in "lingo" often throw me off. I think I've done alright adjusting to this, and I've already begun to find myself taking a few of these terms on in my everyday life.

- Where we would say "tons", they say "heaps". I haven't adapted this one yet, but I've seen some really funny New Zealand tee-shirts that just say HEEPZ in capital letters. 

- As I've already mentioned, they call restrooms/bathrooms "toilets". This actually makes a lot more sense.

- There is a tendency, some showing it more frequently than others, to add the syllable "ay" to the end of a sentence when stating a fact that the other person should rhetorically agree upon. They don't really raise the end of the sentence in a question mark way (this is more of a canadian thing), but rather utter it as another normal word at the end of a statement.

- As the Kiwi accent is basically a hybrid mix of English and Australian, a lot of Aussie lingo creeps over here. The word "reckon" is used frequently. 

- Probably the coolest and most recognizable/easy to adapt term here is "cheers". Cheers can be used in a wide cornicopia of different circumstances, but it's most commonly uttered in place of "thanks". I've personally began to train myself to say "cheers", but am not yet comfortable enough to feel like I've sufficiently thanked the person. Because of this, I am at a sort of compromising crossroads where I now say something like "Cheers. Thank you." This way I've adapted the awesome lingo AND feel like I've actually thanked the person. Cheers alone doesn't feel comfortable enough yet.

- Kindergardens are called "creches". I know this because there's one down the street on my way to school. Is this french or something? I'm not sure. 

- Kiwis aren't really sure how to make the following things: Ketchup (it's called tomato sauce and has a slight barbaque aftertaste with an overly runny texture), Peanut Butter (it's rather sweet and less dense), Ranch Dressing (they just don't make this), Root Beer/Cream Soda (bloody shame), and I have yet to find a simple bag of frozen meatballs. 

- Credits cards are replaced by EFTPOS cards, basically the same concept, just a harder acronym to say.

- I also periodically hear such australian sounding terms as "She'll be right" (it's alright), and "good on ya" (good for you).

- McDonalds has a "KiwiBurger", which is a regular hamburger (you're on board so far, I know) with an egg on top (Blasphemy).

- Fast food in general (Burger King and McDonalds) is much classier here, and I often find that the inside aesthetics look something like a Johnny Rockets. I think that this is their idea of the "American Ideal": the shiny, everybody smiling look of the '50s. 

- Being a small, isolated country, everything is a commodity here. I went to a fish shop yesterday where you have to pay 90 cents for every small packet of ketchup you used. They charge your internet by the space you use, not the speed you get. Things just aren't as plentiful here. It's far from being impoverished or lacking, but things just cost a bit more.

- Speaking of which, a coke costs four dollars. I'm not lying.

- I've already spoken about this but the money is just downright exciting. It's colorful and multisized. I don't carry cash around much though, which is a shame.

- People generally like Americans here, especially after Obama came into office. They still love to have a go at Bush, which none of us really mind.

- "Have a go", there's another one that I've sort of adapted.

- Outlets are indeed frowny shaped, and there is a little switch next to all outlets that turn them on or off. I suppose this saves energy. Also, there are no toilet handles or lightswitches, but different little tabs that you click up or down. 

- Central heating isn't big here, and people are usually fond of space heaters (I rock one of those) or just wearing a bunch of sweaters. To each his own.

- "Classes" are called "Papers"

- All the taxes are included in all of your purchases. Not having to mentally add 7 percent to everything is fantastic.

- Nobody tips here. It's not rude, it's just not socially required or even expected. Kiwis gape when I tell them of how much money I make delivering pizzas off of tips. Interesting.

- I'm not sure what term they use to replace it, but the concept of learning through "grades" (i.e. 1st grade, 2nd grade) is unknown here, and I often get confused faces when I mention a grade I was in at a certain time. I then have to translate to how old I was instead.

- Obviously Celsius is used here, but I've gotten quite good at doing the conversion in my head. It's actually very easy once you get used to it.

That's all I can think of for now, but this list will be ongoing and probably limitless. 

Bill

The Journey, Part 1

Hello everyone, apologies for the lack of posts and the infrequent timing, but as I've said, internet has been a bit of a problem. That said, I'm going to do my best to chronicle the last couple of weeks with pictures and narrative. It's taking a lot longer to jot down all of my experiences so far, so it'll probably be in a few parts so I don't keep everyone waiting too long.

Woke up at around 7:30 on Wednesday with my bags all packed and on the floor. Going through my morning routine was a bit surreal; I couldn't get it into my head exactly what I was about to embark upon. Mostly at this point I felt nervous anticipation, and it was hard to eat the bagel that I dug out of a Dunkin' Donuts bag. The best way to sum up my feelings is the scene in Jaws when Hooper is about to be lowered into the ocean in the shark cage and tries to spit into his goggles to wipe them off. He realizes it's not working, laughs nervously and whispers to Brody: "...I got no spit." I experienced this exact side effect of anxiety and anticipation...it's very hard to eat a bagel with no saliva. I admit that Hooper's situation was a lot cooler than mine, but I couldn't resist a Jaws reference. My cousins James, Liam and Maura and my Aunt and Grandmother came to say goodbye just before I left. James made me a marvelous illustration of a Gecko which resides on my wall as we speak.

It was a bummer of a morning weather-wise, but I managed to snap a couple of good pictures off of my house and family before I left.

Not her best.

The drive to the airport was quiet and contemplative. Getting to the airport and walking inside was when it started to really sink in. Grabbed a couple pictures of T.F. Green before I left, including the sailboat that serves as a beacon to those entering the great state of Rhode Island.

Seeing the flag before leaving America for the first time invoked a sort of pride and fondness for my country that I had not never felt before. It was a great feeling.

I grabbed some airport food with the family before walking through security. I was worried I wouldn't have an appetite I ended up quite enjoying the food, especially for an airport. Dad called the waitress "Miss" and my mother worried that it would offend her for some reason. This made no sense to me and still doesn't.

It looks like somebody died in this picture

We got a stranger to take our picture just before I was to depart through the gates. Saying goodbye to my family was very tough, but getting past it and walking through security to the gates strengthened my resolve.

I had a lot on my mind. Getting from Warwick, Rhode Island to Wellington, New Zealand took a lot of planning and concentration to get in all the right vessels at the right time. I was a bit worried about pulling all of this off. However, as someone who's never flown before, I found airports to be very manageable and easy to navigate. It is at this point in my tale that we begin the first mini-chapter, a "tale within a tale", if you will. This is the story of how I almost lost 2,000 dollars.

As I've mentioned, the morning that I left was a dark and stormy one. "Oh, that's cute", you might say. You might think, ah, what an atmospheric way to depart your home country. Please reconsider this when I tell you that my plane out of Warwick was delayed for a solid two hours because of this weather. It is at this point in my story that I must introduce a friend of mine. His name is Frank Tucci.

This is Frank.

Frank was from Las Vegas and had apparently been at the poor receiving end of Rhode Island's bad weather for about a week now. He had planned on returning home about 6 days ago and, being denied his priviledge due to the weather, had been living in a cheap motel "watching seinfeld and the food network" for the entirety of his time there. Frank had taken this all in stride; his one ray of hope, one reason for going on, was that glorious sapphire SouthWest jet that would lift him out of Rhode Island and home to Las Vegas at 12:55 p.m. At approximately 1:10, the pilot informed the passangers to expect delays. Frank did not take kindly to this news. He decided to let everyone know who had the ears to listen. This man put his heart and soul into vocalizing just how he felt about each and every one of these delays for the next two hours. Good for you, Frank. Tell 'em. You're moving up in the world.

So that was a fantastic part of my journey. Frank slept the rest of the flight to Pheonix, and I was reminded of a small toddler who, after eating copious amounts of chocolate and throwing a massive tantrum, takes a nosedive into unconsciousness and crashes from lack of energy and nutrition. I was happy about this.

After Frank made his last stand, I began to settle in. The takeoff was exhilarating as I had no idea what to expect. Unfortunately, my first memorable plane trip was fraught with turbulence and nausea due to the poor weather. I felt like we were in an ascent for ages, and we were seldom steady during the seven hour flight. I had good book with me, and it passed the time.

The woman next to me was reading and underlining some sort of religious text. It looked ALMOST like a Bible and I was going to ask her out of curiosity, but then I thought, "eh." I instead ordered a coke and had my mind subsequently blown. The coke had the coolest ice I had ever seen in my life. They were essentially shaped like cylinders with the core hollowed out. The sheer genius didn't strike me for several minutes. I snuck a picture. Check it out.

About halfway through the flight I decided to casually glance at the ticket for my connecting flight. The flight was departing at 4 p.m., which was awesome because it was about 4:10 p.m. and we had just started our descent. I hadn't taken into account the two hours we spent sitting on the runway due to the weather. The pilot announced our alternative connecting flights and dropped us off. Making my way to the gate, I began to feel the effects of time change for the first time in my life. I felt fairly disoriented and tired. Consequently, this was a great time for the desk woman to inform me that I'd been placed on a waiting list and probably would have to get an even later connecting flight. This later flight would effectively make me miss my chartered flight to New Zealand and put me out of a 2,000 dollar flight scholarship and throw me into a hell of a lot of logistical problems. The woman at the desk informed me that since I had not booked my entire flight through their airline (which is absolutely absurd in retrospect; isn't Southwest a domestic airline?), she could not prioritize me on the wait list to get on the connecting flight. I took a deep breath, walked about twenty feet to my right, ordered a cheeseburger, and threw a few up to the big man.

There is a man on this planet named Rob. I don't know much about Rob. I know that he lives somewhere in Los Angeles. I know that he has a really cool beard, is about 5' 9", and has a funky black hat. I know that he carries with him a hardcover leatherbound edition of Moby Dick. I also know that Rob most certainly saved my life. Upon overhearing my predicament, Rob gave up his first place spot on the wait list so that I could make it to L.A. on time. He was a really cool guy and I'm going to look him up one day when I'm a powerful and rich man. Anyways, it was a great stroke of luck and a very much appreciated act of kindness.

My near-disastrous experience gave me a fresh new perspective and increased my energy and confidence after being so fatigued. However, the adventure wasn't over yet. Upon entering the plane, I sensed from my initial scan that there were no seats on the plane. Absurd, I thought to myself. What a silly notion. I soon found myself at the back of the plane with no a seat in sight. I thought to myself, "be cool, be cool" and slowly did an about face and walked back up the plane with a sense of purpose, like I had meant to do that all along. The stewardess ended up having to ask another Southwest employee to take a roll call of EVERYONE ON BOARD to figure out what went wrong. This was fun for me, because I got to stand in front of 150 people while in the front of the plane while this happened. I eventually found a small hiding place out of everyone's sight. Fun times. At this point, one man, one lone ranger on the plane decided to do something far too epic and dramatic for the situation at hand, but undisputedly epic nonetheless. A man with a cowboy hat and a goatee stood up and shouted triumphantly: "I am going to save this plane!" and proceeded to dramatically galavant across the aisle and exit to plane, giving up his seat and leaving a clapping mass of citizens behind him. Unfortunately, this display of heroism didn't end up helping much, as there was still the issue of why there were too many people on Southwest's plane. The man with the cowboy hat doesn't need to know that, though. He rode off into the sunset in his own mind. And so they sat, and I stood, for another 15 minutes or so. Once everything was sorted out and I finally got my seat, I spent the better part of the one hour flight to L.A. listening to a small girl talk to another 20 something year old girl in front of me. They carried on a very light, juvenile conversation, but something about listening to a child talk helps stress and makes you a bit calmer. Incidentally, this plane had the genius ice as well. In meaning to snap a picture of the cool Southwest logo, I actually captured the girl who was talking with the kid. So yes, this is my creepy stalker photo. Everyone has to have one, I suppose. In any case, cool logo.

Upon arriving in Los Angeles, I was just about ready to sit in any chair available to me and fall asleep. I grabbed my last American meal (some sort of turkey panini; it was quite good) and exchanged the 50 or so dollars I had at the currency exchange. My first impressions of New Zealand money was that of childlike fascination. Every bill is of a different color, size, and illustration, and they use awesome, huge coins for 1 dollars and 2 dollars, making me feel like I'm carrying around Galleons and Sickles. Lesson number #1 learned from my trip: American currency is boring.

Working on part 2, I think I'll just throw this up quick so you're all semi-updated. Part 2 on the way within several hours.