The Big OE

In Stanley Park, the third largest City park in North America.

If you read my last blog, you may think I'm feeling pretty depressed here in Vancouver, but I assure you its not the case at all. I'm having a great time, and really loving my new life. I wanted to keep the last blog seperate from this one because the truth is I've been having a lot of fun and didn't want it to get over shadowed by all my negative thoughts about the direction our societys heading.

My new flat, and street

So where did I leave off last time? Hmm well on Friday night Susannah, one of my new roommates took me for a big walk around the surrounding suburbs and up to Queen Elizabeth park. You could see all of Downtown Vancouver, and right over to Vancouver Island, and I'm sure it will become a regular on my walking route. Saturday morning I went for another big walk up and down Main street (I live one block away from it mwahaha) where they were having a street festival in all the little side streets coming off it. It was so nice just sitting on the curb listening to different bands, trying samples of summery mango drinks, trying sundried tomato and cream cheese bagels and watching all the locals doing their Saturday morning thing.

Main Street Festival

That night I joined some fellow couch surfers (mostly Germans oddly ebough) for Kiwi movie night, where we watched 'Whale Rider', which as luck would have it, was filmed about 30 minutes drive out of my home town. I meet up with Heike, who had emailed me previously to welcome me to the city as she has a love for all things New Zealand, and although shes actually German I swear she has more of a Kiwi accent than I do! So it was a great night, with a few twangs of homesickness, and hopefully a few new friends made. Sundays events are in my last blog 'Bridge over troubled water', which I wont dwell on again.

Coal Harbour, and Downtown; Brockton Point Lighthouse, Stanley Park

On Tuesday I had my first job interview here, but I won't jinx it by telling you about it yet. I will say though that I had a second interview for it today - so fingers, toes and eye lashes crossed. And last night I joined the Couch Surfing gang for a night of Indian. I have been craving Butter Chicken for months, and finally I got to indulge in the heavenly dish. I met some fantastic new people, and I have no doubt they'll be sick of the sight of me by the end of the year.

Vancouver Couchsurfers

Although the weather was shocking, and I felt like it was winter again, the suns come back and I've been out and about exploring, getting well and truly used to the transport system. My room mates are really easy going, and always up for a chat. They're a pretty healthy lot, so they're keeping me on the straight and narrow. And if you sit around too long, the giant hula hoops come out and into the front yard we go!

Seagull warning sticker on Granville Island

I'll write up a blog concerning all things Canadian once I've been here a bit longer.

A lot of random things happen in my life, some quite ridiculous and frivolous, but once in a while something profound happens which shakes my very core and makes me question humanity. Last Sunday, on a grey, gloomy Fathers day afternoon I watched a man needlessly die, while everyone else looked on with mild interest, and not much else.

The day had started off normally enough, ok perhaps not normal for me (as there was exercise involved) with a not too unpleasant bike ride around the enormous Stanley park, and then all-you-can-eat Sushi lunch with Harry. With a hint of energy left, Harry talked me into carrying on, on our little biking tour of Downtown Vancouver and we hopped on an aquabus with our bikes to tour around Granville Island, one of Vancouver's hot spots for the Arts and Entertainment. After looking around the giant indoor market and taking a few photos (aka the one above), we sat down to enjoy the view and a few minutes later we heard a loud thud, and turned to the water to see a guy who had obviously jumped from the bridge above, and was now struggling to keep a float.

In the next moments nothing happened, people just looked on until the man disappeared completely. A man in a yellow jacket, who was only a few meters from him did nothing, eventually an Aqua bus went over, but they didn't pull him out, or from the looks of things even give him a flotation device. I am not naive enough to think that the guy didn't receive internal injuries from his fall, but the fact that people didn't even try and help him stay a float, disturbs me greatly. Before you ask, we were too far away, that we would never have made it in time, and there were so many people closer who could've helped. I understand some people don't want to drown themselves, while trying to rescue someone else, but to do nothing and just watch a man die, is just too much for this kiwi girl.

Eventually the emergency services came, but after an hours searching they still hadn't recovered the body and we left. Of course suicides barely ever make it to the news, for fear of copy cats and sensationalizing it, so I was unable to find out anything more about it. I did hear one stander by say the jumper was a Male in his early 30's. Suicide is never an easy topic, and you'd be there for ever if you questioned all the ifs and why's. But have we really progressed to a society that it is ok to ignore someones obvious cry for help. Luckily I've never been in the situation where I've contemplated killing my self, but I hope that if I ever do - someone will be selfless enough to throw me a lifeline.

It was and still is strange to me, about my own lack of reaction. I felt no shock about him committing suicide, or even watching it happen - but the fact no one did anything, did. What has happened to us that we have become so desensitized to these horrific images? People can watch someone die, and carry on sipping their lattes seemingly unbothered. In a strange twist of fate, the song 'Bridge over troubled water' has been plaguing me, perhaps its my imagination, but it seems every where I turn there it is being played.

Welcome to the city kid.

The best way to describe my time in Germany, was that it was like entering a giant happy bubble. I guess that’s not the first image most people have when you think of "Germany" and all the stereotypes you've heard, but my year in Germany, was truly one of the most happiest times in my life. I was incredibly lucky to have chosen a very generous and welcoming family to live and work with as an Au Pair. From the beginning I felt at ease, and was spoiled rotten. I was given a lot of freedom, and was encouraged to get out and explore as often as I could. I don't think I can really say I truly got the quintessential German experience though, as I had everything done for me, and barely had to deal with any bureaucracy - which does other expatriates heads in. I think you could only get the real German experience after living there for a few years, and mastering the language, as with anywhere. I had planned to make a solid effort to learn the language, but I have to admit time and money got the better of me. I have a long list of excuses already for ya, but the truth is it was so easy to get away with not knowing it properly and the money I saved from the classes went to lots of exciting and much loved travel. My guilt has been slightly softened after talking to other foreigners who said it took them close to 4 or 5 years of continuous learning to feel confident enough to call themselves fluent, and yet they still make mistakes daily. So quit your judging and go learn some German then tell me how easy it is :o) I was actually quite impressed with the amount I did pick up, and could understand. Ok I couldn't hold a conversation but I could yell at kids (as one does), order in a restaurant, watch the TV and read the paper. Getting back to my earlier bubble analogy, because of my pathetic grasp on the language it meant that at the beginning all the bad things washed over me, because I simply didn't understand it. Murders, death, war on the news - gone, advertising - gone, people yelling random abuse - gone. A perfect happy bubble of ignorance.

Fairytale country near Hofgeismar

When ever Germany gets mentioned, the first thing that pops into a lot of peoples minds is of course its history. I'm not going to start up the debate here, but I really think this generation of Germans have been given a bit of a raw deal, in that they are still being painted with the same brush as their forefathers, and its quite sad that they're not encouraged to be patriotic and love their country. Germans get bashed in the media, and are the butt of a lot of jokes - ok some of it, is warranted, but I think for the most part they're just misunderstood. I have found although Germans are fiercely private, they can be quite liberal and open in the same breath. They drink on the street, and go naked in the park. They love their food and beer, and do have a sense of humour - albeit a strange one, contrary to popular belief. Their standoffishness is a built in mechanism to protect their privacy, but if you break the ice or ask for help, they'll bend over backwards to help you. Their bluntness is not about being rude, its simply that they don't feel the need to add all the fluff us English speakers are known for. They think our over friendliness with everyone is unnecessary, insincere and fake. Its more efficient to say what you mean, and get down to business.

Ein Grosse Pils Bitte

Luckily I arrived just as the Soccer World Cup fever was taking off, there were flags, banners, parties, singing and dancing in the street, for the first time in over 60 years Germans felt proud to fly their flag. Of course a month after the Cup was over, there wasn't a flag to be seen, but the Germans had a spring in there step and a twinkle in their eye. They had showed the rest of the soccer loving world, just how hospitable and friendly these sauerkraut loving, leather pant wearing, sun chair stealing, bad hair cut getting, beer swigging Germans can be.

Some of the things I will miss most are the small everyday mundane things. The food and beer of course, oooohh pilsner, my new favourite beer and all the yummy spätzle (a swabian noodle), schnitzel, käse, pretzels, laugen brotchen and wurst. But also the simple pleasures of listening to the church bells ringing every fifteen minutes, in driving through a small village of half timbered houses, the clean streets, putting my foot down on the autobahn or even just understanding someone swearing in the street. Being able to go into shops and make complete orders in another language, and the warm buzz of just knowing you're in Europe. The Christmas markets were a real highlight for me, and although it didn’t snow as I would have wished, the smell of glühwein, stollenbrot, roasted chestnuts and cinnamon in the air made it feel so much more Christmassey than you’d ever get back in New Zealand. I will miss all the funny little German things, that made me smile daily because they were just so “German”, come on - stereotypes have to originate from somewhere! Mullets and socks with sandals people - really?

Wiesbaden Weihnachten Markt

I will miss the two little boys I looked after. I never thought I could really enjoy being an Au Pair, and saw it more as a means to an end, an experience that I needed to endure if I wanted to get my way paid around Europe. But I truly grew to love those two little blond haired boys. I will miss our silly conversations after dinner and in the car on the way to school, the sneaky little hugs and cuddles that I wasn’t supposed to realize I was getting. The Friday nights tucked up in my bed, where I showed them classics like the Wizard of Oz and the Sound of Music. Teaching the boys to say “May I please be excused” and for 7 year old Max words like “I’m procrastinating”. I will miss story time in the bath, with all the voices, and them trying in vain to teach me how to pronounce words correctly. I will miss being able to manipulate and bribe them to get anything done with the mere promise of a sticker on their beloved sticker charts - a genius invention if ever there was one. I will miss Mikey’s cheeky little grin, and Max’s quick wit. They were two very sweet boys, who although weren’t perfect, came pretty close.

Mike and Max

I got to travel around most of Germany, and covered I think 13 of the 16 states. I also got to add Austria, Belgium, Canary Islands, England, Italy, Liechtenstein, and Switzerland to the list of Countries traveled to. But as with everything, there were some lowlights. I did get lonely, especially in the first few months were I really didn't know that many people. But the worst time was after my minor car crashes, and everything I touched in the house seemed to break. Both the car incidents were tiny bumps, one of which I still refuse to take responsibility for, at least both had minimal damage, but the impact on me was huge. I felt really powerless, and went into over analytical mode. I thought my hosts would think I was irresponsible, and not taking my role seriously, that I was incompetent as an Au Pair, and that they wouldn't believe I was usually much more in control. I think it was an important lesson for me to go through at 21, that I couldn't control everything, or peoples perceptions of me.

So more than just the traveling, new adventures, friends, tastes and experiences - this year really gave me the chance to figure some stuff out, and as cliche as it sounds... I learned a lot about myself. When you are constantly surrounded by people who know everything about you, it can be pretty suffocating. The same stories, same problems and dramas. The things that you really like and want to do, may get clouded by routine, the familiar and what is expected of you. But when you have the chance to start completely fresh, and you don't know another soul, it gives you a chance to really examine what makes me tick, and who you are. You can change aspects of your personality that you perhaps didn't like so much before, or enhance the things that were perhaps previously overlooked.

Sommer Obst: Kirsche und Erdbeeren

I was given time to reflect on who and what was important in my life, and the answers surprised me. People kept in contact with me, who I never thought would notice I was gone, friendships I thought would crumble, stayed strong. It makes me happy that I am still kept in the loop with what is going on back home, and that I am still needed for advice with boy problems and the like, even if I'm 10,000 miles away. The internet is a fantastic tool, and I never felt truly far from home. It has really surprised me the things that I thought I would miss but haven't. And in the same token it has surprised me the people that I do miss. Everything is put into much better perspective.

I am the sort of person, who can't help but try and help others. It has often gotten me into trouble, and people have misinterpreted my intentions. I hope as I've grown up that I am a better judge of when it is wanted and warranted, as I never want to be the person that doesn't offer help. It upsets me that when you offer help, some people think you want something from them, and if you grow up in the city you are taught not to trust others. Traveling through Germany and Europe, reinstalled in me that some people still like to help, for no other reason than to be nice. My best experiences were through couchsurfing, and they are fond memories I will cherish. If I had listened to others warnings about how dangerous it was for me to go by myself, I would have missed meeting some of the most generous, and kind hearted souls on this planet. What better way to travel, than to be welcomed into some locals arms, with a warm bed, food on the table, and good conversation? I am not a complete naive and innocent, that I'll jump into any situation without thinking, but I trust my gut instinct and I'm glad I didn't listen this time around. I love that feeling, and kick in your step when you're overpowered by someone’s kindness.

Lisa and I, waiting for sunrise in Castelmola, Sicily

I also loved the fact that I got to make friends with people of all ages and backgrounds. After being stuck at high school then university for three and a half years, your spectrum of friends is somewhat limited to your immediate age group. While in Germany I made friends with a range of people including a 75 year old German woman called Ursula, who was as eccentric and electric tongued as they come and then Max and Mike, arguably my closest friends there were aged 5 and 7, respectively. I will also miss Ellie, Marc and James (my three British exports, and drinking companions) terribly but I have a sneaking suspicion I haven't seen the last of them. Thank you guys. I learned it is important to take opportunities when they are presented, and say yes to things that don't sound like quite your thing, or with people you wouldn't necessarily choose to be close friends with. I don't mean you should say yes to everything, but just don't let all your doubts get the better of you.

I will miss you Germany, but I will return someday soon. I am starting my new adventure in Vancouver and I know that good times are in store for me.

The world is a book, and those who do not travel read only the first page.

Worms Dom

My last few weeks in Germany were mostly spent enjoying the early summer sunshine, trying to find a job and somewhere to live in Vancouver and tying up all my loose ends. I spent a day shopping for new work clothes with Ellie, in Worms one of Germany’s first towns, and afternoons swimming with the boys. I took the boys and their friends ten pin bowling, and just winding down from it all really. I wasn’t an entirely happy camper to be honest, I just didn’t feel ready to be going, and would have been more than happy to have stayed for another year. But I know that if I had stayed, it would have inevitably changed, and I might not have left with such happy memories. So here are some random photos from my last days.

Mikes self portrait

The troublesome foursome

The new Au Pair Kelsi, an 18 year old from San Diego had a fantastic start to her trip to Germany. I was all orgainsed to pick her up from the airport on Wednesday afternoon, but Tuesday evening after putting the boys to bed I got a strange email from her, saying if I was having trouble finding her, she was wearing .... and was at Gate 1 B. My first thoughts were that she was just letting me know for the following day what she was wearing, but after a while I realised she wouldn’t have a clue what arrivals gate she would be at, because they don’t assign that till the plane lands. So I raced down the stairs and got Frank to check the answer machine, but there was nothing. Frank told me not to worry about it, because she would have contacted us if something was wrong, and everywhere in the house was written that she was coming the following day. But I still had this niggling thought that something was not quite right. So I checked the arrivals online, and couldn’t find anything so I rang the airport and sure enough her flight had come in that afternoon, and she’d been sitting, waiting at the airport for 6 hours. Never been out of America before, 18 years old and doesn’t have a clue where to go. I was mortified for her, but like a champ she was fine. She said although she had the phone number, she’d only ever rang it from the US and she didn’t know how to change it to ring it in Germany. Ahh well it happens, still not sure how the dates got muddled, but she got there fine in the end.

The opelbad

Sandra, Andre and Luis at the Wilhelmstrassen Festival

I was a little worried about Kelsi’s age, when I first found out she was coming, but after spending close to a week with her, I have no doubts she’ll be fine. My last week, was a mad dash of last minute packing, training Kelsi and sad good byes. Thursday was a public holiday, and feeling pretty crook I spent the day sunbathing and catching up with Ellie, then headed into town for cocktails at the Wilhelmstrassen Festival, and a relaxed dinner on one of the busy side streets. On Saturday I invited a lot of the people that I’d made friends with, and whom had helped me greatly in my time in Germany, to the house for a barbeque. After beautiful weather all day, the clouds packed in, and the rain bucketed down, meaning the barbeque was put on hold for a few hours, and everyone got quite merry on the summery cocktails. I rather grudgingly put on a dress, that Ellie had made me buy, and I’m not sure that it’ll be making an appearance again, but time will tell. It was so nice to see everyone again, but I am a terrible party host, as I kept forgetting everyone hadn’t met each other before, and I didn’t introduce anyone. Tsk tsk. Betty and Stefan (who I’d gone to Berlin and Rothenburg with in 2006), were two that I had met fairly early on at the English speaking group and whom I had become friends with announced they’d eloped on their recent holiday in the US. Stefan proposed one day, and the next they drove to Idaho and were married. I was both shocked and excited as one would imagine. As the night wore on, and people were finally comfortable with each other, I had a blissfully happy night flittering from person to person. At midnight, the group that were left decided to head into town for the festival, and in good spirits we walked into town. Of course it was all but nearly over once we got there, and we didn’t stay all that long. After getting home, we all passed out and I got up at the delightful hour of 6 am to clean everything up, before Frank and Nicole awoke.

James and I

Luis and I sharing Mojitos

Sandra, my true gift from God

I procrastinated packing so much, that I begged Kelsi to help me pack on Monday night. She did such an efficient job that I only needed to leave one bag of winter clothes there, that she’ll forward on to me once I’m more settled. On the day that I left, I felt strangely resigned that although I wasn’t happy to be going, I didn’t have a whole lot of choice, and I needed to start feeling more positive about my move to Canada. I didn’t cry, I don’t even cry at funerals, but I was destroyed on the inside. I have never been as happy as I was while in Germany. I reached a place of peace, but I’ll get into all that in another blog.

Kelsi dropped me off at the Airport, so Nicole could take the boys to school. The original plan was for Kelsi to stay with me, in case I needed to unpack my bags, and she could take my excess back with her, but because of problems with parking I told her to go and I’d deal with it. I knew my bags were heavy, but I was horrified when the scales said one bag was 25 kgs and the other was 48! I had a baggage allowance of two bags at 23 kgs each, so one weighing 48 by itself, was going to be enough to clear out my bank account. For some reason my guardian angel was working extra hard that day, because the woman at the bank counter couldn’t be bothered processing the extra charge. It wasn’t her airline I was flying the long flight with, but just the connecting flight to Munich, she didn’t know what the procedures were for my actual airline, and it was to busy for her to waste time on, so I didn’t have to pay a cent. I bet if Kelsi had stayed, she would have made me clear out the second bag. After thanking her profusely I thought naively that would be the last of my problems. My connecting light to Munich was then delayed, and when we finally landed I was in the wrong terminal, and had to race through the fairly large airport to find that Passport Control then wanted to detain me and charge me for overstaying my visa. I had not really thought 5 days over my year long visa would raise any eyebrows, but I was wrong and the guy was on a major power trip. As the final boarding calls came over the speakers “for the last remaining passengers” of my flight I pleaded with the police officer in English and German that I had a new Visa for Canada, I had somewhere to live, a one way ticket and I wasn’t coming back. With two minutes to spare, he got the call from above to let me go and I was then stopped at Security to have my carry-on luggage searched. My suspicious plastic bag in my handbag, turned out to be all my jewelry, and I set off the metal detectors every single time - damn bra underwires! Finally through clearance, my boarding gate had changed on me, and I couldn’t find where I needed to go (there are never enough signs when you need them) and running around like a lunatic, sweating profusely and breathless I found my gate and then my boarding pass wouldn't scan. So they had to play around on the computer for what felt like half an hour, before finally saying “Just go through”. You can imagine the dirty looks I got from my fellow passengers as I boarded the plane.

Marc and Ellie

The ten hour flight to Vancouver was alright, someone had stolen my window seat, but I wasn’t really in a position to argue, so I moved and luckily got two seats to myself anyway. I did manage to sneak a peek at the Arctic circle and Greenland, which doesn’t look at all green. When I got to Vancouver, I had to wait in the Immigration line for two hours, and after finally getting processed - I finally touched Canadian soil and breathed a sigh of relief. I jumped in a taxi and arrived at my new home for four months. Although its not the Ritz, it will do. It’s a small three bedroom place, and my room has a futon and a room overlooking the neighbours backyard. My roomies seem quite nice, a little alternative and have promised to take me out and show me some of the night life. I have already unpacked everything, and went to English Bay yesterday and all over Stanley park with Harry a friend I met on the Internet who’s been helping me and giving me advice on my move to Vancouver, and may even have some job opportunities lined up for me. On Saturday night I am meeting up with some of the local couchsurfers for a Kiwi movie night, and we are watching ‘Whale Rider’ which was filmed 30 minutes away from my hometown. And on Tuesday night everyone’s meeting up for dinner at an Vegetarian Indian restaurant just down the road from my place. I have a job interview lined up in the next day or two, and I don’t seem to be suffering from jetlag, so you could say I’ve definitely hit the ground running here, and loving every minute of it so far.

Miss you all, and I’ll keep you tuned.

Fact: A kiwi fruit is actually a Chinese Gooseberry, just renamed after a successful marketing campaign during the Cold War era.

After stumbling across a recent New Zealand Herald article online about our accents lately, I thought it was about time I discussed the issues I’ve had with being a New Zealander and my accent while abroad. Firstly, there has only ever been one time in the year I’ve been away that someone has asked if I was a New Zealander, and that was by a Swiss woman selling necklaces in a market in Bern. Everyone else has thought I was American. This hasn’t really worried me in the least, as I can understand how difficult it would be to non native English speakers to pick up on our different accents (I could never tell an Austrian from a German). But the really astonishing thing is, that within seconds of finding out I’m actually a New Zealander peoples attitude towards me instantly changes, and I suddenly reach an exotic status. Never in my life, have I ever been referred to as exotic, and it’s a title I’m going to be sad to give up in a few weeks time (can you believe there’s actually a New Zealanders club in Vancouver!).

Over the last year there has been a lot of discussion about my accent, from it was too heavy and difficult to understand, to I didn’t have one at all, I’d changed and now sounded American, to I sounded German, or that I sounded like someone learning English for the first time. When I first arrived, Max (the oldest boy) and the old Au Pair Crystal had no problems understanding me, but poor Mike hadn’t a clue what I was on about. I got constantly teased by Frank, and still do – and Nicole had to ask me to repeat my self quite a bit. Nicole said her main problem in understanding me was that I didn’t separate my words enough, and they all blurred together. I had to learn to slow right down when talking, because I’ve since found out New Zealand is one of the fastest English speaking countries.

Over time, Mike got used to me, I slowed down and things were fine. Then Lisa, an old High School friend stayed for a week, my mother showed up and later on so did my sister, and once again my accent was put under the spotlight, and everyone in the house decided I was the most difficult to understand of all New Zealanders. This must’ve gotten to me a bit, because shortly after that friends back home started commenting that I sounded really bizarre on the phone, like I’d either had a stroke, or was learning English for the first time. It was a few months later that my sister said I sounded like an out right American, with a distinct twang and rolling my ‘r’s. Of course I don’t notice it at all, apart from that I never realised how much random Maori (native language of NZ) I spoke. Saying the greetings ‘kia ora’ and ‘ka kete’ were quite difficult to stop, and other words would pop up unexpectedly, like ‘puku’ for your stomach. I now have Max counting to ten in Maori, as he loves soaking in as much knowledge as possible.

Anyway back to the article I read, it said the New Zealand accent is getting a lot stronger and more distinct from the Australian accent, and that there's even a bit of Cockney creeping in too, as people are not fully pronouncing the "t" sound in words like "what" and "but". Another random thing that I’d never thought about, was the word ‘Kiwi’. I recently chose the username ‘kiwigirl84’ on a website, and the amount of mail I got asking what was my obsession with ‘Kiwis’? I replied saying it was simply because I was a New Zealander, and their reply was ‘huh’? So I asked around a bit, and an alarming amount of people had no idea New Zealanders were called Kiwi’s, or that if they had they didn’t know it was because of the bird - wait there's a kiwi bird?? Then I got others saying I was ‘over stating New Zealand’s impact on the world’, alrighty then. The general consensus was that the term ‘Kiwi’ is really only known in the Commonwealth, New Zealand is a mystical, beautiful country where we all live in shacks, its on the list of places to go, but they’ll probably never get there because its too far away, and alarmingly a hell of a lot of people have no idea where our country is, what language we speak or what we look like. Random huh? Anyways thought that might interest you folks back home.

Ka kete anö