Closing Time

New Zealand is a country that believes in the relaxed, island lifestyle. It's reflected in everything they do. From cafe visits midday, to after work drinks that progress into dinner with seamless transition, to prolonged holidays*, New Zealanders progress through each activity at the same pace: leisurely. The average person spends two weeks at a time on holiday, often extending to four or even six weeks. A concept that affronts my American workaholic ethic. This relaxed attitude is even noted in most stores trading* hours. Eight to five, Monday to Friday, is the norm. Come five o'clock, you better believe they'll be closed. There's family to visit, tea* to be had, and tele to be watched, in particular, any current sporting event involving rugby or netball. Don't get me wrong, I wholly believe in a more relaxed lifestyle, and have completely embraced it in the time I've been here. The difficulty is that I also work 8 to 5, five days a week, thus giving me minimal opportunity to run simple errands, like going to the chemist*, buying a birthday card at the stationary shop, or even obtaining a replacement bulb for my refrigerator at the appliance store. Often my window of opportunity is confined to 30 minutes midday, a time that must also be utilized for catching up on patient labs, paperwork, and filling my body with sustenance. And what of Saturday, you query*? (For Sundays are strictly off limits in terms of work, being reserved for the family sporting events.) Well, if I manage to make it in town before noon, when most stores close, then I can get heaps* accomplished. That's if I don't decide to go to the gym, which unfortunately, is also only open during those hours.

I must admit that I've done some fabulous Houdini impressions in my time here, fulfilling my omnipresent ambitions. Still, it would be nice, if on occasion, a store was open for just a little bit longer.


*Appendix of Kiwi/British English to American English translation:
Holiday (n.): vacation. Not to be confused with a day of celebration, although the two are often found coinciding.

Trading (v.): as in trading hours, meaning hours of operation. Don't worry, the barter system has long since been dissolved.

Tea (n.): dinner. Differs from the beverage, also of the same name, often served at the same sitting.

Chemist (n.): drug store. Can also be used to refer to the person who actually dispenses the medication.

Query (v.): to question. Need I say more?

Heaps (n.): lots. Differentiated from piles, or even old, run-down cars. Although, intermittently, I have seen heaps of heaps heaped on top of each other.

Yield to the right?

I realize I haven't said much about driving in this great country. Yes, there's been the occasional mention of dirt road, two lane highways, and small cars. But I haven't really talked about my experience with driving here, on the opposite side of the road. I guess after six months I've just grown accustom to the experience and don't see it as a novelty.

I will admit that when I first started driving on the left, it took every ounce of my mental capacity every time I stepped into the car. That's saying I remembered to step into the right side of the car in the first place. There were several occasions when I plopped myself into the passenger seat, looking for my steering wheel. Humbly, I would step out and walk around to the other side, hoping no local in the immediate vicinity noticed my faux pas.

Once I was on the road, I generally had no problems. Getting onto the road was a different story. For about the first month, I attempted to thwart the left side road rules, consistently feeling the urge to turn into the right hand lane. I quickly rid myself of this oppositional defiance after the second time I mistakenly began driving down the right side of the road, only realizing my mistake when a pair of bright headlights approached me head on. Don't worry, no one was harmed in the making of this story.

Overall, left lane driving has become quite natural and I don't have to give it a second thought. I get in the right side of the car, drive on the left side of the road, and yield to those cars coming from the right when stopped at a round-about. There is still one traffic law that baffles me and requires my mental attention at each encounter: yielding to the right hand turner. Let me explain.

I am driving down the left lane and want to turn left into the intersecting street. Another car coming from the opposite direction (hence right hand land), also wants to turn into the same street as me, thus making a right hand turn into the intersecting street. As the law stands now, I (driving in the left hand lane) must yield to the car in the right hand lane who wants to turn right across traffic (ie, me) into the intersecting street. As you can imagine, this creates a lot of traffic confusion and mishaps. Will the person in the left hand lane actually yield? Will they just go for it, hoping the right hand car doesn't hit them? Will the cars traveling behind the left lane car realize he's stopped and not rear-end him/her? Or will they simple go around the left lane car, thus potentially being hit by the right lane car that's turning across traffic? There are just too many questions and bad outcomes that could come of this scenario. Probably why New Zealand is now the only country that still abides by this law. Everyone else who drives on the left has realized its idiocracy. Not to say New Zealand isn't trying. Just today on the news there was a story addressing this very issue. AA, the New Zealand Automobile Association, is lobbying government to change the traffic law. Unfortunately, the law makers are not coming to the party. They apparently feel that the hundreds of accidents that could be averted are not enough justification to change a 30 year old law that has worked "pretty well" up to this point.

Who am I to comment? I grew up driving on the wrong side of the road.

Sideways glance

For those of you waiting to see some pictures from my most recent holiday, glance to the left hand column of the blog. I've added a few sets for your viewing pleasure. Unfortunately, some of the pictures are a little overexposed. My dad had the wrong setting on his camera initially, but luckily discovered his oversight by the end of the first day. He sends his apologies.

There will be several more sets to come. Uploading always takes longer then I anticipate.

Gear shift

Well, the moment has come to relate my holiday adventures after readjusting back to working life. I appreciate everyone's patience in this respect. Sadly, the fast paced life I left behind only two weeks ago has quickly been reestablished. It appears that all my patients waited for my return. Some delaying treatment well beyond medical acceptability. I've greeted each consult with a smile, after a momentarily daydream back to scenes from my vacation.

What a week it turned out to be! Before setting out on our driving adventure, my parents and I visited a few of the local tourist spots. These were places I'd looked at or driven by for six months without ever stopping to explore. One was Hawera's infamous landmark, the water tower. Located directly across the street from my flat, it's concrete circularity greets me each morning when I wake. Truly, I've not been that busy, I just waited until my parents came. Being approximately 75 meters tall, it grants a wonderful aerial view of Hawera and the surrounding landscape, giving me a completely different perspective on the size of this "wee" town.

Monday we set off on our ticki-tour. After a quick stop at the local cheese factory to stock up for the week, we hit the road. One of the local car dealers graciously loaned me a larger, 4WD vehicle for the week (free of charge, I might add). Boy did this prove helpful. It was recommended that we take the coastal road up the west coast to Raglan, our first night's destination. Unfortunately, this road included no view of the coast, nor any pavement. Instead, we traversed 150km of winding, dirt road, intermittently stopping to let herds of sheep and cattle cross our path.

Tuesday brought a rainy start. It was the tail end of the bad weather affecting the southern tip of the North Island, something we managed to avoid for the remainder of our journey. As the sun broke, we took off again, but not before a stop to view the famous left-hand surfing break, Bridal Veil Falls, and to support the local economy via purchase of souvenirs. From Raglan we headed due East across the North Island up to the Coromandel Peninsula, located on the Northeast corner. After two days of driving, I was willing to let my mom take a turn at left-sided driving. Thirty kilometers later over another winding, dirt road, this time in the dark, I soon realized this would be my mother's last desire to drive on the left-side and I would be the chauffeur for the remainder of the trip. Luckily, the weather, food, and sites in Coromandel granted me partial repentance. Sunny and beautiful, we hiked down to Cathedral Cove and ate on a beach composed of the finest grain white sand I'd ever felt while entertained by local kids who decided to dress down to their birthing suits for the weather. We held out sticking our bare feet in the sand until we visited Hot Water Beach just down the coast. Here, at low tide, one can find pockets of thermal warmed sand heated up to 60 degrees Celsius just centimeters below the surface. Unfortunately, we lacked the spade to dig our own spa pool. Maybe next time.

Thursday we headed down the Bay of Plenty coast through Mt. Maunganui to Papamoa Beach. Along the way we stopped at a cafe with a beautiful mandarin grove out back and an attached crafts store. Seemingly in the middle of nowhere, it held a steady stream of customers, including our presence twice, as we had to double back to retrieve my mother's forgotten sunglasses. (Sorry, mom, I had to put that in there.) Once in Mt. Maunganui the weather turned icy cold. My father braved the cold, electing to climb to the top of the "Mount", while my mom and I enjoyed some retail therapy. We reconvened in the evening to sit in the heated salt water pools.

Friday we got an early start, driving down through Rotorua and the central plateau with the hopes of making it to the Wai-o-tapu Thermal Wonderland before the Lady Knox Geyser displayed her spray at 10:15 am. Despite much pessimism on my part, we actually made it there in time. Ironically, the Lady Knox Geyser promptly goes off at 10:15 am each morning due to a little encouragement from an organic soap-like substance that changes the surface tension in the heated pools below the geyser. Don't worry, Old Faithful, we know you're still au naturel. Despite this small point of discouragement, the Thermal Wonderland proved to be just that: wonderful. Acclimating to the strong sulfur smell, we were greeted by beautiful pools of fluorescent green and orange throughout the park.

Due to flooding from the prior weeks inclement weather in Taranaki, closing the main road from Mt. Ruapehu to home, we abandoned our planned stay at a revitalized chateau on the mountain. Instead we settled in Taupo on Friday night at a lovely hotel overlooking Lake Taupo. This is the setting for the half-marathon I'm running in only 3 weeks. It gave me the chance to do a training run along the course, but not before we visited Huka Falls, enjoyed a lovely dinner at a winery outside town, took a dip in the natural hot pools, and I got a massage. What a great way to end the week.

As mentioned in a prior blog, I knew it would be interesting to see the country again through my parents eyes. These are a few of things they found intriguing:

1. All outlets have on/off switches. Just because you plug something in, doesn't mean it's going to work, nor charge, as my dad discovered on several occasions with his camera batteries.

2. Cafes are located anywhere. Often they are not in metropolitan areas, but rather alongside some random road with nothing surrounding it for miles.

3. A road is not a road is not a road. Most major "highways" are two lane roads equivalent to our country roads in the states. Most minor roads are dirt.

4. Coffee is not universal. Most restaurants don't have drip coffee, nor decaf. New Zealanders like their coffee strong and wired.

5. The food really is different here. Cream is literally the thick, full-fat substance that settles on top of milk and can clog your arteries just with a glance. Ice cream is the frozen version of this substance. Meat tastes better because it's all free range, grass fed. The stuff Americans pay high price for is the common table meal here. Pumpkin and kumera, two native vegetables similar to squash and yams, are used in everything here, something to which I've become addicted.

6. Dining out is a much more experimental process. First of all, they don't provide bread, like the starch driven American standard. You must order that separately. Water is also not automatically provided. It comes readily when asked for, but is usually out of the tap, displayed in a decorative glass bottle. New Zealanders also like to experiment more with their food, mixing several different flavors in one dish. It's like a party for your mouth. Sometimes good, sometimes bad, as in the snot-colored licorice rice pudding my parents ordered one night, but all-in-all makes for a very enjoyable dining experience.

Gratitude

It's funny how adversity brings out the best and worst in individuals. I admit that I have been in a funk for the last few days. Whether I attribute it to returning to work after holiday, the departure of my parents, hearing sad news from a friend, or my own psychological analytic overdrive, the end result was the same. I wanted to be home. There's always a moment in there when I, and anyone in a similar situation, feel alone. It's interesting to find that in such moments support comes from different and somewhat surprising places. I've had heaps of emails from family and friends, some I've not heard from in months. Work colleagues have surrounded me with unsolicited support and guidance, even bringing me flowers. I even had a patient come in today purely for a social visit. He didn't want any medications, advice, or examination. He simply wanted to chat and catch up. It's make me realize with all these positive encounters and communications, I'm never truly alone.

Don't worry, news of my "ticki-tour" holiday is still to come. There are just too many good stories to relate of a week with my parents.

Apologies

I realize that many of you are waiting with baited breath to hear about the adventures of my week long holiday. A draft is currently under way. Unfortunately, I received a sad email today concerning a friend, consuming my thoughts with sympathy for her and frustration with my distance from those I care about. Once I am able to clear my head, I will finish detailing my North Island holiday experience.

Pinch me, I must be dreaming

I love holidays. I especially love holidays when they come after a chaotic few months full of moving to a new country and adjusting to a new work environment with its initial mass confusion turned calm after some restructuring, both personal and within the clinic itself. This weekend marked the first of my four allowed weeks of vacation here in New Zealand. It's made even sweeter by sharing it with my parents. They flew in yesterday and were quickly inaugurated into the kiwi life. They had the obligatory cup of coffee with each meeting of friends, watched their first netball game, and had a dinner made with traditional kiwi produce. It's been fascinating to watch their reactions, and concurrently reopen my eyes, to the differences and idiosyncrasies of New Zealand life. Things to which I've now become accustom and take for granted, including my use of kiwi language. I look forward to this week of new discovery and rediscovery as we "ticki-tour" around the North Island, especially as it grants me a week off work.

This holiday is particularly pleasant as it comes on the heels of finding a second doctor for the clinic. Yes, it's true. Help is on the way. Wednesday I took part in a conference call and did my best to plug the town, clinic, and relaxed atmosphere of working in New Zealand. Something must have clicked, for by the end he was verbally excepting the position. He too will be a stateside locum, coming for a six month stint to experience a different medical environment. The beauty of it all, he will arrive in September, just a week before I take my next two week holiday.