High Thanks

Those daring enough to click on the highlighted "Thanksgiving" will be delighted by a post-dated blog. Yes, this was intended to come closer to the time of the event, but time as gotten away from me and I've been a wee bit preoccupied with my new kiwi souvenir, whom I'll from now on call Jason.

I was a tad bit misleading when I said Thanksgiving does not exist as a holiday here. It doesn't exist as a holiday for the native population. However, it becomes a newly recognized holiday for a certain segment of the population when the two doctors working in the same clinic are American. That's right, my colleague and I brought the Thanksgiving tradition to New Zealand. After all, who's going to deny a good feed and few hours off work.

After much discussion, it was decided by the Maori staff that we needed to partake in the traditions of Thanksgiving, so they organized the day (the fourth Thursday of November, of course), divvied up the food, and set up the table. We even got all the office staff to decorate kindergarten-style hand-traced turkey drawings in the days preceding the feast.

My partner, Rich (or, more appropriately, his wife), was to roast the turkey. Not a small feat considering turkey is not a native fowl and hence, not that easy to get at your local grocer. I was to bring the pumpkin pie. A dessert looked at with much skepticism considering pumpkin is regularly eaten as a vegetable here and not thought of as dessert. This was emphasized by one friend's comment, "Why would you ever want to bake pumpkin in a pie?" The remainder of the sides were brought by clinic staff in true potluck fashion. They even set up a mini-hangi to steam the vegetables and stuffing, making it a cross cultural event. It was a fantastic day. The spread equivalent to any American feast. In true Thanksgiving style we all sat around and ate until our pants were about to burst. The turkey was a huge hit and at the end of the day not a single sliver of pumpkin pie remained. I guess there are some American traditions worth immigrating.

State of a Fair

I get childish pleasure in going to state fairs. I attribute it to childhood memories of hot summer days spent eating hot dogs, funnel cakes, looking at astronomically large produce, viewing lifestock, and of course, going on carnival rides. I looked forward to the event every year. As I've gotten older and moved around the country, I've maintained this junevial sense of wonder and attended the local fairs for the state in which I was living. So you can imagine my surprise and excitement when I found out they were having the local A&P (Agriculture and Produce) show in Hawera this past weekend, the New Zealand equivalent to the State Fair. Starting with the holiday parade on Friday night, which included floats filled with school children dressed in "Kiwiana" theme (gum boots, farmers hats, shorts, and singlets), large farm loaders, trackers, a bagpipe band, cheerleaders, and even the appearance of Santa in the final float (dressed in proper red suit and boots, instead of jandals and shorts) the festivities continued through Saturday. After fighting off initial fears that Saturday's show would be canceled due to weather, my friend and I battled through the mud-ladden field to enjoy the show. After viewing a few rows of locally grown produce, flowers, and homemade baked goods, we then strolled through rows of stalls displaying the lastest and greatest in trackers, chainsaws, boats, and a variety of other farm equipment. We then awed ourselves with the jet boat displays, petting zoo, chainsaw carver, bug man (who's show included placing a variety of small legged creatures in his mouth), and finally the axe throwing. Of course the day would not have been complete without ingesting an "American" hot dog (meaning it was placed in a bun versus being battered on a stick), some donuts, and a ride on the Octopus (an activity my friend has warned me he will never participate in again). All in all a grand show to add to the many memories of my time in New Zealand and a way for me to relive my childhood memories. Afterall, who really needs to grow up?

Extension of Faith

Several blogs back I mentioned I was looking into extending my stay here for an additional six month. After much internal deliberation and multiple international phone calls to my parents and friends, I decided to accept the offer to extend my time at Ruanui Health Centre. Ultimately, I decided it was a good employment opportunity giving me some additional time to find a suitable job back in the states. After all, I have my whole life to spend in a permanent position. At 31 I might as well have a little more fun before I settle down. Least my stateside friends and family worry, I will be coming back after six additional months.

As if the decision to stay wasn't nerve-racking enough, I then had to go through another application process to extend my work visa. The paperwork, while extensive, including a 16 page application, full medical certificate with blood work, and a chest xray, was the least of my worries. Sending off my original passport with the application, however, has me sitting on the edge of my seat. Granted, I had to go through this same process when I applied for my original work visa a year ago, but I was on home territory. I knew that if my passport was lost, I could apply for a new one and not be extradited. Being in a foreign country and sending off my passport is a whole new ballgame. Of course I sent it by certified mail, but that doesn't mean I won't be sitting on the edge of my seat until it is returned to me and I know I have a safe means of exiting the country. Otherwise, it will be a long journey home.

$2 to Win

I like horse racing. I will admit it. How couldn't I? My grandfather worked at a racetrack all his life, my uncle owns and breeds horses, my cousin got a degree in horse management, and my mother is an avid watcher of the Triple Crown races and could probably rival any trainer in naming the past 10 years winners. It's been bred into me. Today was no exception in displaying my admiration for the great racing pastime with watching of the Melbourne Cup.

Probably the largest horse race in Australasia, the Melbourne Cup creates a lot of fanfare, shutting down a majority of Australia to participate in the pre-race activities, rivaling the festivities of the Kentucky Derby. Men and women dress in their finest attire, women often adorning tops that include some sort of sparkling element and headdresses that resemble the next UFO siting. New Zealand is no exception, manifested even by one of our receptionist dressing in her finest attire, although with a little less conspicuous hat. Days before the race, office coworkers gathered $2 from daring individuals to be added to the pool of betting. On the day of the race a horse is drawn for you randomly and everyone watches in great anticipation to see if they've won the pool. My horse, number 20, Glistening. The name sounded promising, the description did not:

"Only win was over 2414m when he led in Maiden Stakes May (2005). Tougher assignment this time and drawn outside. Others make more appeal."

Unfortunately, Glistening lived up to his description, coming nowhere near the front of the pack during the race. Perhaps he needs a little shining before the next Melbourne Cup. Oh well, that's the chance you take when you bet $2 to win. Better luck next time. I'll see you at the races.