License to Drive

Now that I’ve been here a year, the process of renewing certain memberships and contracts has begun. This included renewing my international driver’s license. Done through the local AA, or Automobile Association, in New Zealand, I gave them a ring this past week to inquire about the process. Thinking it would be a simple extension of my American derived international license, I was nicely informed that I needed to convert to a New Zealand license. Gulp! Fears of a driving test requirement flashed into my head. I know I’ve been driving here a year, but I must admit that I’m still a little vague on some of the technicalities. Hey, the American Automobile Association thought I was safe to drive, as does New Zealand for the first year, so why should another six months make any difference? (Admittedly, I did not inquire about the answer.) Luckily, New Zealand only requires me to take the “theory” test and not a driving test to obtain a full license. So, after studying up on the “Road Code” I happily entered the local AA to take my test. After a few misunderstandings about my actual date of birth (they state the day first here instead of the month), I was handed the test…and a coin. Yes, the theory test is comprised of 35 scratchy questions, each one granting the feeling of winning the lottery when the “check” showed up underneath instead of the “x”. On this day I struck it rich, getting 34 questions correct and was handed a bona fide New Zealand license. Watch out world, this girl is licensed to drive on both sides of the road.

Happy Anniversary!

It’s hard for me to believe that a year has gone by. But 12 months ago today I started working at Ruanui Health Centre. January 16, 2006, a day I remember vividly, having brought a home baked cake for a soon to become close friend’s birthday. (Something I later learned opposed kiwi tradition.) A day when the kaumatua, or elders, guided me into the health centre as per Maori tradition, it marked the beginning of a year long journey of growth. So much has happened over the last year that I couldn’t even begin to summarize. Those who have followed along with my blog will know the extent of those happenings.

To mark the event, the nurses decided to take me out to lunch; a plan that was foiled when I quickly paid for my own café meal before they arrived at the counter. Yet, their surprises were not yet done. When I arrived back from lunch (having stayed in town to run a few errands), I was greeted by a lovely sign on my door. Full of items found in the office it had a very distinct theme, including such things as gloves, condoms, the morning after pill, a pregnancy test, and a lovely pamphlet on bladder infections, all displayed around the words “be safe in the next 6 months”. Granted, this is from the same group of people who gave me a box of condoms and a packet of panadol for my birthday. I’m not exactly sure what kind of growth they’re expecting me to have in my remaining time here, but I appreciate the gesture nonetheless.

It really is a small world

It still amazes me how small this world actually is sometimes. This past weekend I decided to take my stateside friend, Sarah, on a little tiki-tour to Wairarapa for some relaxation and wine tasting. Arriving on Saturday, the weather was a divine 24º Celcius, sunny, with a slight breeze; perfect weather to sit out on the patio of our rented cottage and indulge in some of the finer pleasures of New Zealand, namely wine and cheese. After all, we were on a mini-holiday. After a nice sleep-in Sunday morning, we rallied to walk in town for Sunday breakfast at the local café/Farmer’s Market. While leisurely enjoying some farm fresh eggs and smoked bacon rashers and a good browse through the Sunday paper, I looked up to see an individual I distinctly remembered from Seattle. At the same moment she caught my eye and mouthed the words, “I know you.” Turns out she, and I, were right. She was a third year resident when I was doing my Obstetric fellowship in Seattle. After graduating she too decided to take the transpacific leap to work in New Zealand. Now with a 1 year old daughter (a mere belly bulge when I headed off) she has been working in the small town of Levin, an hour north of Wellington. Just goes to show you that distance is only a state of mind, not a matter of reality.

Wet and Weird

This past holiday season I learned about another New Zealand tradition: the holiday camping trip. It’s a rather odd phenomenon in which whole families pack up their goods, close their shops and houses, and head to the beach to enjoy a few days or weeks of summer laziness and sunny weather. Having picked up a good friend that flew in from the states for a short respite, we decided to abide by NZ tradition and packed up our gear heading for a beachside plot. That is when the fun began and all my childhood concepts of camping were thrown out the window.

If you’ve ever been car camping in the states, you generally bring yourselves and what fits in the standard car. This usually includes a tent, sleeping bags, maybe a foam pad, a small grill, a cooler, and maybe a few games to keep you occupied. In New Zealand camping goes to a whole new level. They don’t just bring any ordinary tent, it’s usually about the size of a small Bach that will sleep anywhere from 4-10 in a bunk bed-style arrangement. Or, if you’re unfortunate enough to “rough it” on the ground, then a queen size mattress brought from home will be used. Then there’s the full size BBQ grill, the small refrigerator (and possibly freezer), maybe even a microwave if you’re lucky enough to procure a powered site. These are all towed behind the car in a trailer, that’s conveniently parked in front of their site for easy loading at the end of the trip. If you think this means families are venturing a great distance from their homes to camp, you are sorely mistaken. Often they’re within a 60 minute drive. After all, what if you needed an extra mattress? You could simply drive home, load it in the back of the car and bring it back, as we witnessed one family do. Seriously, you couldn’t really leave the comforts of home; then it wouldn’t be a true vacation. The only thing that closely approximated my stateside camping experience was the rain that graced us for the entire 48 hours. Ah, some things just don’t change, no matter where you are in the world.