We survived!

Emeline finished in first place and I finished second.

Kidding.

This thing, this hill, it's steep. (CK)

Quick Update

Later today we'll take part in the Gutbuster, an annual footrace up and then back down Baldwin Street, the steepest street in the world. Here's a photo I found online that shows how steep it is. The street is only 350-meters long, and the record of 1-minute-and-56-seconds was set in 1994. I think the record is ready to be broken. In 2001, a student attempted to ride down the street in a trashcan with wheels on it. She died. Today, I will avenge her death, by defeating the hill. (CK)

Real people with new duvets

Emeline and I are becoming real people. At the start of our second week in New Zealand, we now have bank accounts, cellphones, library cards, a house to live in, electricity to power it, some gas canisters (we don’t know what they’re for yet), plenty of bus timetables, a new duvet, some new towels, new keys, and lots of other things that prove we exist.

By Wednesday, we’ll have wireless internet at home too. Once we’re online again, there’ll be no stopping us. It’s been a tough and busy week. Dunedin is a hilly city, and we’ve walked lots and lots and lots of hills. Even in a nice quiet civilized country like New Zealand, it’s hard to set up new lives ... especially if you’re starting from scratch and trying to start new jobs at the same time. The realty agent we’ve been working with told us on Friday afternoon that the house we were moving into on Saturday morning had no power. Who do we call for power?

“There are lots of companies,” says a co-worker. For instance, there’s Contact Energy, or Meridian Energy, or we could try Trust Power instead. When I call Contact Energy, a recorded message says, “Welcome to Contact Energy, the only energy company that lets you power up your Fly-Bys!”

What?

The weather is already turning chilly. In the afternoon, our house high up in the Wakari Valley is filled with bright sunlight. And then as soon as the sun dips below the houses above us, a little farther up the slope, our house is cold. Very, very cold. Immediately. Cold enough for thermal underwear.

Anyway, I can’t post pictures until we have internet access at home. In the meantime, here’s a picture I found online of the Taieri Plains of central Otago. In the middle of the frame, if you look closely, you’ll see the tiny airstrip that we landed on a week ago. (CK)

Going to the seaside

This morning, we caught a bus through town to St Clair beach. For just $2.40NZ, or less than $2US, the ride took about 20 minutes south and, before you know it, the neat and tidy suburban streets begin to thin out, and then suddenly dead-end at a promenade and some railings. Beyond that: gleaming bright blue breakers and endless cold ocean that stretches all the way to Antarctica to the south, and to the United States, thousands and thousands of miles to the east.

A shark bell sits at the top of a pole to warn surfers that sharks have been sighted. It hasn't been rung since the 1950s. Seagulls are everywhere.

On the beach, two rows of wooden rotting pier struts march into the sea, all that remains of an old pier. Half a mile to the north, on St Kilda beach, a long pipe from the local sewage plant feeds human waste right into the breaking whitecaps. I know ... that sucks, right? Apparently, the bacterial contamination was causing problems so the water treatment facility has recently been extending the pipeline so that it dumps the poop further into the sea. Even so, it's still a poop pipe in the sea. All the way to New Zealand, one of the greenest countries in the world, and we see a poop pipe.

I heard on the radio this morning a story warning surfers not to surf at St Kilda beach because of bacterial contamination. So, instead, they bob up and down at St Clair, in sight of the shark bell ... but if you stand on the promenade and look north along the beach, past the dead pier, you can see the poop pipe, dark against the foamy sea. (CK)

Strange Dunedin Sights #1

Located by the library on the Octagon in the middle of town, here is the Otago Seafarers Society drop-off box for books and magazines, which are collected and distributed to sailors who read them during long stretches on the open seas. (CK)

Blue skies ...

Basically, we came to Dunedin on the rainiest weekend in South New Zealand for about 27-years. I'm not really sure what I'll do if another person tells me: “It's a shame you came now, we've just had a wonderful summer.” Undaunted, we walked through the rain in our new Gore-Tex shoes, opened bank accounts and got ourselves some new cellphones. Our plans allow us to each pick a "Best Mate."

I've included a weather-related picture from the Otago Daily News, which is full of funny New Zealand-centric headlines about delayed Bluff oyster harvests and new gold prospecting plans (Dunedin owes it's solid, Scottish-looking civic buildings downtown to the gold rush of 1861).

By far, my favorite headline in today's paper is: “Coroner apportions no blame after wool press mechanism failed.” Think twice knitters: wool can be deadly. If you don't believe me, ask Peter Milton's widow.

We looked at a house for rent yesterday in the Kaikorai Valley and we like it enough to try to get it. Pictures will follow if we're successful. We also walked downtown and scoped out the location of the Cadbury's chocolate factory (they have a chocolate fountain), and the Speight's brewery (they, um, make beer).

If we have a chance, we're planning to go on tours at both places today. I'll suggest to the brewery that they take a look at Cadbury's business model and install a beer fountain. Anyway, the wind and rain have finally moved on and, at 9:30 in the morning, the sky is bright blue and cloudless and we're ready for the day. (CK)

Another sunny day in Dunedin

Kia Ora!! That's how we Kiwis say hello, you know.

Anyway, we're here, after a very long trek across the globe, which included an unexpected stop for an hour or so in Rarotonga, in the Cook Islands (80F at 4am, and a ukulele playing crooner in the arrival hall). Next: after four hours in Auckland (sushi, and a smoothie) and another two hours in Christchurch (meat pie), we flew into Dunedin airport, landing at 5pm in the rain. Nestled between a rough sea on one side and a ridge of rolling hills on the other, the runway sits neatly in a bright green, flat valley, dotted with cows and sheep and farmers hosing down their milking sheds.

We're still a little dislocated ... but not too bad considering we've traveled so far through time and space. It was mind twisting to watch the little plane icon on the screen as we flew from Rarotonga to Auckland ... as we crossed the International Dateline suddenly everything that was going about to happen tomorrow had already happened yesterday.

Last night, we checked into our hotel (in the rain). We have a basic but pretty quiet and functional one-bedroom apartment for a week. The landlady asked us if we wanted, “full or trum mulk,” which stumped both of us for a few seconds ... until we realized that “trum mulk” is trim milk, which, to normal people, is skim milk. So, that's one good way to gauge our assimilation to New Zealand: when we refer to milk as “trum mulk,” it's time to leave. Immediately. In fact, by then, it might be too late.

Threw our bags everywhere; ran out for a curry (in the rain).

This week we have to find somewhere to live, and get cellphones and bank accounts. Most likely, we'll be doing it in the rain. (CK)