Kiwi Dispatch

2006-08-25T17:10:00.000-07:00

Offshore Islands - Ecological Restoration in New Zealand (1)

Despite the impression conveyed to the outside world, New Zealand's ample open lands did not survive colonization and successive waves of pioneer settlement in pristine condition. Even before the arrival of European explorers, fires spread by Polynesian settlers had dramatically reduced New Zealand's original forest cover. Conversion of land to agricultural uses and extinction of native species accelerated throughout the 19th and early 20th Centuries, when sheep farming transformed vast tracts of wild bush into endless blankets of green pasture. Introduced mammals and plants have devastated remaining native ecosystems. In fact, the scale of destruction and loss is truly overwhelming when you consider how quickly it has taken place. New Zealand was among the very last places on Earth to be settled by human beings. Over the course of just a few hundred years, it has gone from being a unique, isolated remnant of Gondwanaland, to a tamed and familiarized landscape.

Many of NZ's native species have been severely outcompeted or predated by introduced birds, such as magpies, and animals such as stoats, rabbits, mice, rats, cats, sheep, goats, dogs, deer, pigs, wasps and possums. The problem is severe enough to have caused the extinction of more than one third of native bird species, and to have eliminated a large number of surviving species from their original habitats on the mainland.

Faced with the enormous responsibility of preserving their rapidly disappearing native animals and plants, conservationists here have developed several intensive and highly unique approaches. These include offshore island reserves, species transfers, pest removal regimes, and the creation of so-called "mainland islands", which I will describe in good time.

Offshore island reserves have been established on dozens of islands all around New Zealand, many quite close to the mainland, but distant enough to prevent pest species from easily colonizing them. Not all islands managed to avoid the problems of the mainland. Restoration efforts have incorporated a heavy investment in livestock removal, cat, possum and stoat trapping, and poisoning to eliminate rodents. However, once eliminated, island reserves have tended to remain free of pests.

At first, these islands were the spontaneous refuge of birds, reptiles, amphibians, insects and plants pushed off the mainland by habitat destruction and predators. In recent decades, conservationists have taken the more drastic step of translocating entire populations of species on the verge of extinction (e.g. kakapo, saddlebacks, black robin, etc.) to predator-free offshore island refuges where they have never occurred naturally. Although risky, these transfers were essentially last-ditch efforts to preserve native species in the wild, and they have paid off by successfully establishing breeding populations of animals that would otherwise have been eliminated.

Kapiti Island, located just an hour up the coast from central Wellington (pictured throughout), is among the oldest of NZ's offshore island nature reserves. Despite its proximity to the city, relatively few Wellingtonians take advantage of the opportunity to visit. Entrance is strictly controlled by a daily quota permit system and overnight camping is not allowed. Jay and I were lucky enough to accompany the Victoria University Tramping Club for a day hike there in May.

Kapiti is famous for its thriving communities of rare birds. We had the opportunity to see and record the sounds of many of them on our four-hour wander over the island. Below and at left is the takahe, a flightless member of the rail family. These birds were thought to be extinct until the 1940s, when an isolated group were discovered in the high alpine tussocks of Fiordland. They are grass-eaters, and have been primarily threatened by the spread of deer throughout their mountain habitat. (Deer are considered a pest in NZ, and hunting season on them is open year-round.) Their numbers have been added to with the aid of a captive breeding program. This particular takahe is the matriarch of the group on Kapiti Island, literally mother or grandmother to every bird present (with the exception of one new arrival). We interrupted her enjoying her afternoon tea, one carefully-chosen blade of grass at a time.

Another flightless bird in abundance on Kapiti is the weka. Weka are very well camouflaged, and their presence is mainly betrayed by copious scratching and shuffling sounds in the dead leaves of the undergrowth. In other parts of the world, such sounds would lead you to expect a squirrel or a rabbit, but in New Zealand they are invariably caused by birds. Weka are gutsy and fast-moving. They are especially skilled at targeting unattended lunches, and are said to be able thieves of shiny objects that catch their eye.

The New Zealand robin is much smaller than its North American counterparts. A tiny, gray bird with a puffed, rounded body, stubby tail and thin stilts for legs, it offers an incredibly pleasing profile. Here you can see one with a leaf beside it for comparison of scale. Robins tend to hop along unobtrusively behind trampers, often approaching very close, looking for insects stirred up by our footsteps.

The dominant sound chorusing throughout the canopy in all corners of Kapiti Island is the melodious call of the bellbird (at left). We sometimes hear these birds singing outside our windows at home, but their numbers are sparse (due to the city's high density of cats) and their presence is irregular. On the island, the trees fairly pulsed with their song. It was a small taste of what early visitors to the vast forests of this land must once have experienced. Amidst the bellbirds, we heard the calls of tieke, or saddleback, and hihi, or stitchbird, and the ever astonishing tui.

After hiking to the top of Kapiti's stark western cliffs and taking in the view over the Tasman Sea, we descended through the dense forest and back to the marshy flats near the island's seashore. In the bushes near our boat's landing site, we had a close encounter with a kereru, or NZ native wood pigeon (below). These birds may look somewhat similar to typical pigeons, but they are at least twice their size, much more lovely with their iridescent green and purple plumage, and very different in their comportment. Kereru are very silent and ponderous birds. They rarely coo, but they make an alarming racket whenever they fly, their wing feathers whistling and whirring with the strain of keeping their plump bodies aloft. The sight of such a large bird perching incongruously on a slender branch above your head never fails to give you a start. Unfortunately, although not endangered, these birds are becoming less and less common.

As we returned to the pebbled beach to watch the shadows lengthen and await our boat ride back to the coast, we passed a pair of pukeko watching from among the tussocks. These lovely birds are related to the brightly colored takahe, but they are swamp dwellers, and possess a wader's long legs. They can fly, but they do so in a very ungainly way, almost as if they were halfway to giving it up entirely.

Although our time on Kapiti was brief, the abundance of wildlife and rich biodiversity on this offshore island reserve made its conservation value immediately clear. These islands provide a measure of safety against the excesses of mainland ecological degradation and provide a supply of animals and plants for ongoing restoration efforts. More on those efforts to follow in my next dispatch...

2006-08-03T00:03:00.000-07:00

Wellington Pictures of the Day

Darkness had been falling by 5:00. We're glad to see daylight lingering till 6:00 these days.

Wellington Harbour looking unusually calm today

2006-06-28T16:06:00.000-07:00

Mt Hector, to the north, from Wellington.

And to the south, over Cook Straight, even bigger peaks.

2006-06-17T17:55:00.000-07:00

Kiwi Radio - Here's your chance to check out a New Zealand-made radio documentary, co-produced by yours truly. It's about releasing captive-bred kiwi birds into the wild in an area where they have been extinct for several hundred years.

It aired today on Radio New Zealand's National Radio. It should be up on the Spectrum archive page soon. Look for the June 18th programme to appear there at the top of the list.

You won't hear me presenting the programme, so you may be wondering what I did to earn that co-producer credit? I got invited along for the field recording, on the hike into the Rimutaka Range, shadowing Jack Perkins who is one of Radio New Zealand's most veteran producers. He's been making documentaries here for over 30 years. I gave feedback throughout the editing process and contributed some of the tape I recorded in the field to help pull together the final piece. It was a great experience. Listen carefully for 3 cameo appearances from me throughout the piece (who do you suppose that girl from Minnesota is?)

Happy listening!

2006-06-01T23:13:00.000-07:00

Endangered sounds of New Zealand

Kokako:

The kokako is the most endangered of New Zealand's two remaining endemic wattlebirds. Wattles are brightly coloured fleshy appendages on the throat or cheeks. Part of the reason Kokakos are so intriguing is their loud, melodious song which is said to be one of purest tones in nature. Each pair sing their own distinctive duet for half an hour at dawn.
Click here to listen to a recording of the Kokako

Kiwi:

The kiwi is the closest thing to a mammal in the bird world. The kiwi's blood temperature is nearly the same as a mammal, about 2 degrees centigrade lower than other birds. And it has bone marrow, instead of air as in the bones of a bird.

Kiwis have large ear openings, long whiskers, and plumage more like hair than feathers - all physical characteristics of most mammals.

With strong stout legs and claws that are 30 percent of its' body weight, the kiwi is a powerful runner, fighter and swimmer.

The kiwi also has a keen sense of smell. It's the only bird with nostrils located at the end of its beak. Kiwis forage for insects at night by plunging their beaks into the earth and sniffing them out.

This is an excellent description of Kiwis, well worth a quick read. These funny looking birds grow dearer to us every day.

Click on the image above to get a better picture.

Click to hear a kiwi

2006-05-04T17:10:00.000-07:00

Antipodal Moon

Yesterday evening, Jay & I were walking along a high ridgeline in the parkland behind our house as the sun was setting. As we came around a bend, my eyes focused on the quarter moon's brilliant white semi-circle directly ahead of me, and I stopped dead in my tracks. My brain struggled to make sense of what I was seeing. The moon was facing the wrong way!

Now some of you may not understand what I mean by this. You may also wonder how it is that I've lived in NZ for over two months without ever noticing the moon. Let me explain: when I was little, I learned a handy rule for remembering the moon's phases when it is waxing and waning. "If you draw a vertical line closing the moon's crescent, it will form either a 'p' for premier - first - or a 'd' for dernier - last." As a budding francophile, I immediately learned this by heart, and I have never been at a loss to know whether I am seeing the first quarter or the last quarter of the moon.

Since arriving in NZ, I have seen moonrise in the dusky rose of sunset, with the full moon blossoming fat on the far ridges of the Rimutakas. I have noticed the increased brilliance of the city's already bright stars on the nights of the new moon. I have glimpsed the crescent moon here and there in the sky without pausing to consider its celestial context. It was only last night that I finally, viscerally, realized that I am seeing the moon from a new perspective.

[The graphic you see moving above is how I have been used to seeing the moon. In the southern hemisphere, imagine playing the film backwards. See chart at right.]

A similar experience occurred soon after I arrived here. One of the things I looked forward to with the greatest anticipation was the prospect of seeing the stars of the southern hemisphere. The New Zealand of my imagination nestled beneath strange stars, entirely unknown to me. On a first clear night, I was shocked to see familiar Orion above me, doing a handstand, upside down! For a few moments I felt entirely disoriented, not because of Orion's novel position, but because he was visible at all! I had looked at the same stars above my home in Minneapolis just a week before. Traveling all this way had failed to take me out of their sight.

This makes sense once you think about it - we see more than just the sky directly above us at 45 degrees latitude.

If you live at 40 degrees north latitude, and if you have an unobstructed view of the southern horizon, it's theoretically possible to see a star that would be overhead for someone at 50 degrees south latitude (40 + 50 = 90). From our view, such a star would be kissing the horizon. ...The point is, just because we're in the Northern Hemisphere, it doesn't mean we can't see stars in the Southern Hemisphere. We just can't see the ones that are more than about 80 degrees or so of our latitude. [source]

Our angle of view isn't so different from what we left behind, so we continue to share many of the same stars with those of you back home. However, the Big Dipper is gone, as is Cassiopeia. Perhaps you are curious to learn: What does our sky have that yours doesn't? For one thing,

All-in-all, the northern sky is rather devoid of light. By contrast, in the Southern Hemisphere, there are 11 constellations which are circumpolar and 6 first order magnitude stars! [source]

We have noticed that the stars are incredibly bright here, with the Milky Way visible even inside the central city. Whether this is due to brighter stars or cleaner air is hard to say. If you're interested, here's a link to get you started on learning the stars down under. And maybe you'll even be inspired to pack your bags to come see the antipodal sky.

2006-05-04T05:02:00.000-07:00

Thunderstorms and Volcanoes

The front pages today are full of criticisms of New Zealand’s civil defense, which should have responded more efficiently to the tsunami threat yesterday morning. As it turns out, there was no tsunami, despite a powerful 7.9 magnitude earthquake about 2000 km from Auckland near the Tonga Islands. Apparently, the rest of the world had heard about our nearby quake before most of us in NZ. Word got out in the town of Gisbon, NZ when friends and family living abroad called town residents after hearing reports of the tsunami potential on the BBC. It surprises me that New Zealand’s warning systems are a bit rusty. We are located within the ring of fire, a region notorious for volcanic and seismic activity, and the country is well-equipped to monitor these conditions. (Photo above depicts a 6.6 magnitude quake that hit Edgecumbe in 1987. Photo: L. Homer)

Living in this fiery ring thing is new to me, though. I grew up in Virginia and Minnesota where the primary forces of nature to be reckoned with are thunderstorms and damaging winds. I’ve always enjoyed watching as the sky darkens; the wind gusts and the sounds of thunder grow steadily closer. I can remember countless occasions of standing out under the roiling clouds and running to cover only when the torrential downpours began. With real-time weather data now widely available on the internet I often monitored the storm’s approach and could tell exactly when it was time to head outside and watch the show.

What thrills me about thunderstorms, and strong weather in general, is the opportunity these events provide. Aside from the sheer exhilaration of physically recoiling from a deafening clap of thunder or gazing skyward to see branches of white light climb across the clouds, there's something more. Observers have the chance to understand the world in new ways. Nature puts on a demonstration, much like a professor does in a science lab. We’ve all heard the faint crackle of static electricity; how big those bolts must be to cause the ground shaking thunder we hear overhead!

I was saddened to discover, after a night of distant rumbling and occasional flashes, that Wellington sees only 2 or 3 thunderstorms a year. No snow, no thunderstorms… weather changing so quickly that keeping up with it is pointless! (What am I to do?) I’ve slept through the only tremor I was ever present for—one night when I was living in Oakland, CA, for a brief time. As I said earlier, I’m new to the restless character of the land I’m now living on. It goes without saying, then: I’ve never been frightened by an earthquake, and the same can be said for any weather related event, which is why the sound of thunder still delights me and I stay out watching the storm even when Dacia is shouting to run for cover (it’s fair to say that Minnesota has a much higher tornado potential than Virginia, and I spent most of my time growing up in VA).

I got my first inkling of what's going on down beneath the earth one evening, a few weeks ago. I was sitting against the wall in my room, reading and minding my own business. I felt a bump, as though a bus had nudged the corner of the house. My head was resting against the wall and it got a gentle knock as the entire wall moved against me. Dacia and I both looked at each other, “Did you feel that?” Whoa…Yeah...

That little grunt from deep within the earth captivated my imagination for days. I can still recall the sensation even now. My awareness traveled deep into the earth while entertaining the notion of not just our house having moved but the entire Wellington region “bumping” in that moment. It was hard to get my head around, which is the reason I’m compelled to ponder it so intently. The same fascination I have with lightning, or hail storms (how fast must the winds be blowing up above to push those hails stones higher and higher as they grow heavier?) has found an outlet in New Zealand—how far down underground did that movement of earth occur to yield such a sensation here on the surface?

I will leave it to Dacia to explain the tectonic conditions that are at work under ground here in New Zealand. I want to point out some of the fascinating earthquake information that is now freely available to NZ residents and the world at large through the Internet.

After our tremor experience we wanted to find out if there was any seismology information online. We discovered a website called Geo-Net which “provides real-time monitoring and data collection for rapid response and research into earthquake, volcano, landslide and tsunami hazards.” The site includes up to the hour images of the 4 major volcanoes and also short video clips of the steaming craters. As you can see from the map of strong motion recording sites the islands here are well monitored.

Once we found Geo-Net we were able to locate the report on the particular tremor we experienced—note the big spike, which was the bump we felt. If your explore the site further you’ll find real-time seismograph records, magnitude, depth and epicenter information, as well as fascinating seismic history reports that date back to the 1400’s. GeoNet even offers a "Felt Earthquake Report" link that Dacia used to submit her account of the April 17th tremor.

We decided to investigate the earthquake history of the Wellington region. Using the QuakeSearch feature we identified all quakes over 5 on the Richter scale. Whoa…too many to know what to do with. We raised the bar to show quakes over a 7. Yikes—still a lot. We kept raising the limit until we got to 8 and above. Now there were only 2 earthquakes shown on the map. Can you guess where they were?

It’s well known that Wellington is situated directly on top of a significant fault line. New Zealand is full of fault lines, actually. Never-the-less, the fact that in the past 600 years there have been two major earthquakes right here in Wellington… it’s a bit concerning. The continued tremors, however, are signs that all is well beneath our feet. Slight movements indicate that the colliding plates are moving together smoothly. A major earthquake occurs when friction builds up between the plates and releases all at once. Let’s all hope we feel some more rumblings soon.

Eruption of Mount Ruapehu, 1945. Source: Matapihi

2006-04-25T21:02:00.000-07:00

The Wairarapa

On recommendation from a classmate we decided to spend a weekend exploring the Wairarapa region of New Zealand. The area covers the south eastern tip of the North Island and is named after Lake Wairarapa, a large shallow lake ringed with wetlands. The region is known for beautiful coastline, forest parks, wine making, and lots and lots of sheep. All this only 90 minutes away from the heart of Wellington. We hired a car and I got my first chance to drive on the left side of the road--thanks for the help Dacia! Having no idea about distances we weren’t sure whether we’d be able to keep to our planned itinerary. At the end of it all we had witnessed a whole spectrum of weather, saw amazing countryside and coastline and survived an embarrassing (and frightening) off road situation that nearly left us stranded.

After an eventful overnight at the Greytown Hotel, NZ's oldest pub (which has survived into the modern day through its ability to faithfully attract a loud, enthusiastic crowd of drinkers -- not the greatest for a restful night's sleep!) we drove on until we reached the Pacific coast at Castlepoint. We're getting used to the weather in NZ, but on this day we encountered something new -- a brilliant sunny day with gale-force winds. This means that our day at the beach included intermittent clouds of stinging sand that pelted us as we walked along (at the end of the day we had sand just about everywhere -- ears, nose, shoes, pockets…) We didn't let it stop our fun though, just took off up the highest neighboring peak and made the best of it. On our hike up Castle Rock the wind was at our backs making the steep climb somewhat easier. Conversely, the way down meant that we had to lean into the wind and downhill—kind of scary when you see how steep Castle Rock is. We tried to capture the experience of being on that summit in several photos, but they somehow fail miserably to show the chaos of the situation. We had to shout to one another even though just a few feet apart. Our jackets and pants flapped as though we were standing up on the back of a pickup truck going down the highway. I kept checking my pockets to make sure my wallet and keys were still there, it seemed anything not actually attached was going to fly away, over the edge of the cliff.

We fought the wind all the way to our car and beat a hasty retreat back to the relative safety of the inland hills. It was totally exhausting being out in those conditions, like we had spent an entire day hiking when, in fact, it was just over an hour.

The roads here in New Zealand can best be described as curvy, narrow and just about empty. In an earlier post I mentioned that the max speed limit on the island is 100 kph (62 mph). This sounded a bit slow to me at the time (I’m coming from the flat plains of the midwest where 75-80 mph is not uncommon). At that point I was assuming that the main roads would be something like freeways. But I was wrong. As soon as you get outside Wellington the main roads become basic two-laners with an occasional passing lane. This means that the majority of the roads on the map, the little ones shown in white that criss-cross the countryside, are basically dirt or gravel. When it occurred to me that all these tiny, windy little roads carried the same 100 kph speed limit I soon realized this wasn’t slow at all. Many of the turns are so tight it would be difficult to take them at 30, and only a fraction of these turns have any kind of warning sign to prepare you for what's ahead. We marveled at false encouragement given by 100 speed limit signs that immediately preceded a drop into a steep valley or down a series of tortured switch backs. Driving these roads was great fun for me though, and I kept my eyes on the road while Dacia enjoyed the scenery and held on tight.

I did pretty well for my first time behind the wheel of a right hand drive automobile. Sure I got in on the wrong side half the time and I don’t think there was any danger in reaching for the seatbelt over my left shoulder (only to grope in the air) and I’m sure no one was confused when I indicated my lane changes with the wipers instead of my turn indicator… I only drove on the wrong side of the road once and that was because we did a U turn and I took it to the left which had the effect of resetting my sense of direction (you would take a U turn to the right here). Dacia noticed about 45 seconds later and luckily there were no cars on the road ahead for us to frighten.

Cape Palliser sits at the south east tip of the North Island. The road on the way to the lighthouse follows a dramatic coastline that is desolate and empty, except for a small fishing village called Ngawi. On the way we crossed Te Humenga Point. Te Humenga has been identified as one of the earliest settlement sites of New Zealand. Ancient stone walls can be seen that date back to the 12^th century. Without a modern building in sight it’s easy to imagine how the land might have looked back then. Further along we reach the lighthouse which sits atop a rocky cliff. A climb up the 258 stairs offers views up and down the coast. The rocky shore is composed of lumpy ‘pillow lava’ that erupted on the sea floor over 100 million years ago. One particular outcropping is home to the only successful breeding colony of fur seals on the North Island. During our exploration of the rocks we came across hundreds of seals. Just as you might expect with puppies, the young seal pups, though timid, were also very inquisitive and friendly. After getting used to us being around they eventually approached us, sniffed us with their long, wet whiskers and even allowed us a brief pet of sleek seal fur.

The trip was almost over, but we decided there was still time for an extra adventure. According to our map, there was a 4x4 route around Cape Turakirae that would save us from crossing back over the steep and winding Rimutaka Mountains. We were tempted by the thought of a coastal drive and, given that we had a four-wheel-drive vehicle we decided to give it a shot. Four hours later, with the adrenalin slowly draining from our veins, we were back where we’d started—back on the paved roads, headed back up into the Rimutakas and thankful that at least this way there would be guard rails along the steeps.

The turn around point came a couple hours of very slow going past the last town, after the 'road' had dwindled to a narrow shelf in a pile of landslide rubble several hundred feet above the ocean. In this particular section it dipped down around a rocky cliff back to sea level and spilled us out onto the beach. Driving in sand feels like you’re trying to run on water—there is a sinking feeling, both in the pit of your stomach and in the car as its wheels spin faster and faster and bury themselves in sand. Both of us had taken turns panicking, so we decided to scout the road ahead to see if the walking helped calm our wits, and to see if the way forward might look even worse than the way back. We were in the middle of nowhere. The only other people we had encountered on the road were two angry looking teenagers on dirt bikes who came speeding past us—obviously not willing to offer any help or even sympathy. We had stopped just short of rounding a point and we walked ahead to get a glimpse of the lighthouse that would indicate the start of the paved road. Instead we saw about another 10 miles of desolate shoreline with no lighthouse in sight. Directly ahead, the trail seemed to climb vertically up a hill before disappearing completely into a recent landslide. We paused to enjoy this utterly empty stretch of coast that offered stunning views of Cape Palliser and the bay. I don't expect we'll be passing that way again anytime soon! The rest of the Wairarapa however, will definitely be seeing more of us.

You can watch a slideshow or view pictures from the trip.

2006-04-18T17:29:00.000-07:00

Got my first NZ paycheck last week. That's right -- I am officially employed. I sent in squillions of CVs and cover letters in response to classified ads, hoping against hope that that old trick might work for me here. Never once in my entire, varied employment history have I gotten a job through such traditional channels. After about 6 weeks had passed without even reaching the interview stage with any of the CV recipients, it was time for a different tactic. I decided to go with my usual standby -- showing up unannounced at the front door and talking my way in. When I showed up, New Zealand Translation Centre happened to have a vacancy just opening for a Chinese Editor. And also a high demand for French and Spanish skills as well. And there I was. They didn't even have to post an ad in the paper.

So what is a Chinese Editor, you may be wondering? NZTC actually has quite laudable standards of accuracy and quality that they strive to uphold by using certain protocol, viz: 1) translators can only translate into their native language; 2) every translation must pass through an editor who knows both languages, and who is a native speaker of the original document's language; 3) the editor checks not only for errors and omissions, but also to make sure that the translator understood any ambiguities in the original correctly, and has conveyed the correct sense in the translation; 4) following comments from the editor, the translator makes final corrections and proof-reads one last time. We have an in-house Chinese translator, Yu Zhimin, who I partner with. He makes corrections on the odd Chinese-to-English translation I provide. Mostly, I edit his English-to-Chinese translations. In the last two weeks since I've started, we've worked on medical advisories, anti-gambling pamphlets, personal letters, on-line surveys, and a massive technical document for the mining industry. We never know what's coming next.

Kiwi Dispatch cannot resist commenting on things unique to New Zealand, so here are a couple related to the workplace.

Morning and afternoon tea -- a communal and social event. An official announcement comes over the loudspeaker at 10 am and 3 pm. We all head down to the common area for Nescafe, strong black tea or Milo. Sometimes there are biscuits.
Good Friday and Easter Monday -- both official holidays. Shops were closed, alcohol sales banned, everything shut down. Almost no one went to church.

2006-04-13T20:41:00.001-07:00

Joys of Exploration

It has been a long time since I’ve had the pleasure of exploring the creeks and forests of a place, discarded by developers and home builders. Growing up in suburban neighborhoods in the midst of development meant that, temporarily, some places existed undisturbed. Had they not, however, the child’s imagination could take charge and turn the known into the unknown. The joy of exploration is about discovery and there is a bigger pay off if you’re the first to find out, even if your trail blazing is only imaginary.

I’ve grown accustomed to my adult explorations taking the shape of finding a favorite café, walk, or hidden corner in the library. In most urban cities you’d be hard pressed to find an un-trodden trail or abandoned valley or forest floor. In a lot of cases the sheer number of explorers makes it difficult for a place to appear forgotten or overlooked; well worn foot paths hardly allow room for improvisation.

Thankfully, Wellington still has rocks to overturn and discoveries to be made—literally. The topography demands that certain areas resist man’s temptation to develop. In other cases, habitat is protected for wildlife. Park areas have been set aside but only a few of the most popular are maintained. There are still many forests and small valleys that have no grand entrance or paved paths. The inroads are hidden and out of the way, which means that visitors are rare and the forest has a chance to establish its own, unique character, no matter if it was once disrupted.

Dacia and I have wandered along many paths only to find them dissolve or branch into different directions. In some cases the way ahead is blocked but other times we’ve been able to continue along with only our sense of direction and enthusiasm leading the way. We have gone ahead, not knowing if we’ll have to turn back, retracing the same steps. We’ve persisted and risked the fading light at day’s end would catch us too soon and leave us in the dark. I’m dramatizing to some extent, but this a country where reports of hikers gone missing are in the news repeatedly. What a feeling, then, to push on and emerge on the other side in a completely new place. Even a known place reached by an unknown route is a success and cause for celebration.

This morning we headed up into the woods just a few blocks from our house where a path picks up at the end of a residential road. The trees have been cleared, but grasses and plants have grown in over the trail so it’s obvious that visits like ours are rare. We enter a valley that is narrowing. Gradually the sounds of the city are replaced by the rustling of our footsteps, the distant wind heard in the trees along the ridge above and the wondrous bird calls. We’ve come to recognize a few of the most common calls like that of the Tui. They never cease to sound extaordinary though. Instead I’m compelled to listen closer to the striking liquid melody—imagine a tiny brook with the water sounds amplified and musical—that’s just the beginning.

On the ground we see a handful of Amanita mushrooms scattered around—the quintessential speckled red topped poisonous (or hallucinogenic) variety. This is an old stream bed that has been filled in, the water redirected to deliver the wetness away from the houses down below. A little farther we see the stream disappearing into its catchment. Just then, a red and green flash in the tree tops. Dacia spots two Kakarikis, yellow-crowned parakeets. They walk along branches with longs tails flipping back and forth, pigeon-toed. Their fluttery, awkward flight between trees is no less comical. The two are keeping together and rummaging through the branches for food. It’s odd in a forest of so many bird sounds that these two are utterly silent. Though not endangered this is a rare sighting within the city and a first for us--we’re thrilled. Before we can get a closer look they fly off, up towards the ridge.

The path is eventually swallowed by the creek and we continue on from rock to rock. An old, rusty, round 50’s era washing machine with rollers lays half buried. An even larger metal object is sunk into the earth not revealing enough for identification. These abandoned household items and junk—a rotting leather boot, broken plastic bucket—are signs that we’ve reached the real backyard of Wellington, the place behind the shed where stuff is tossed and forgotten. Uncovering these lost objects in their final resting place ignites the excitement of discovery. Though it’s not the ocean floor, and these aren’t gold coins spilling accidentally from a sunken treasure chest, it makes me feel there’s room for happy accidents and untold pleasures.

On our way out, Dacia slips on the mossy rocks leading around a deep pool. I hear a ker-splash and look back to see her knee-deep in the dark water. Luckily she’s wearing a skirt and the only thing wet are her shoes and socks. As soon as she’s back out and on solid ground she takes them off without complaint and continues on foot. What a delight, it turns out. Unexpectedly, her bare feet thrive on the soft grasses, damp earth and even the sidewalk all the way home. Perhaps this was the plan all along.

“Do you want to go for a walk this morning?”

“Yeah, let’s go see what we can find.”

2006-04-12T08:57:00.000-07:00

Home... at last.
Shortly after Jay and I moved our four suitcases up the stairs and settled in at the Hannah Warehouse, we were surprised to find a flyer sitting down in the lobby with a picture of our flat -- for sale. We called the landlords (who had been strangely eager to avoid signing a long-term lease) who reassured us that, "Yes, we have have put your flat up for sale, but we're only just floating it on the market. We don't expect anyone to buy it at this price!" Three weeks and a dozen real estate agent-led showings later, of course someone did. Wellington's burgeoning housing market had claimed another victim, and we received our official 6 weeks notice to vacate the premises!

Wednesday and Saturday mornings, the local paper prints its major classified sections, both for housing and for jobs. The first several weeks of my life in New Zealand revolved around these two poles, with a flurry of flat inquiries and CV writing filling the mornings of these days. Since we have decided not to buy a car here, we were on foot for all of our increasingly far-flung visits to potential flats, and an entire weekend could easily be eaten up trekking from one hillside neighborhood to another to another. (From Kelburn, to Roseneath, to Thorndon, to Brooklyn, to Mt. Victoria, to Haitaitai, to Te Aro....) Crowds of flathunters met us at most sites. One open house, scheduled for a mere 15 minutes at a tiny 1 bedroom cottage, yielded more than 20 people trying to cram inside.

Some of the things we learned during our search, mostly unique to NZ:

Rent is paid weekly here. When you move in, you pay a "bond" of 1,2,3, sometimes 4 weeks rent (there doesn't seem to be any agreed upon standard) to a government body that holds the deposit. When you move out, you get it back after lengthy delays. In practice many landlords keep the bond themselves, or pass it directly to the outgoing tenant to speed things up.

Fridges, washing machines and dishwashers are referred to as "whiteware" and in many cases are not included in rental properties. People "hire" their whiteware from special companies and pay a weekly bill for them.

Some flats, like the Hannah Warehouse one, are listed as "fully furnished". These are at the opposite extreme from the bare, empty flats we found on the market. They are designed to be immediately livable, and provide everything including towels, sheets, can openers, tea pots, alarm clocks, you name it.

Many of the best flats never get advertised...

Eventually we started to get savvy -- any flat wanting less than a certain amount of rent was guaranteed to be a) falling apart, b) mildewed to a toxic degree, or c) a basement apartment with no sunlight in an impossibly distant suburb. Flats like the one we were leaving were truly out of our price range for the long term, so we decided that our only real shot of a decent living environment was going to involve locating a room within an established house. Although we are used to living alone, it was going to be worth trading privacy for the chance to spread rent among several flatmates and to avoid the need to purchase furnishings for completely bare living rooms and kitchens.

New Zealand, sadly, does not have a well-established craigslist. It does have two sites that serve a similar function, Flatfinder and Trademe. We launched a multi-pronged offensive, involving daily checks of both sites, broadcast inquiries to flats that looked promising, and pinning down as many "interviews" as possible. The competition was intense, and households looking for a new addition could afford to be picky. Sometimes we could tell as soon as the door opened that it wasn't going to work out. Sometimes we sat down for hours-long conversations over cups of tea, only to be called back and told that someone else was more suitable. We started to become extremely discouraged, especially when people we genuinely liked and thought we'd made a good impression on told us they'd rather live with someone else!

After a particulary dismal Saturday, wasted entirely on unsuccessful interviews, we were at our low point. We had ticked through our entire list of prospects, the fruit of a hard week's labor, and we were down to our last shot. For over a week, we had been corresponding with Drake and Casey by email in response to a text-only lising for their flat on the web. By this stage in the game, we were acutely conscious that a good relationship with the people living in the flat was the only thing that was going to secure us a home. So, we'd agreed to put off this particular "showing" several times until it was convenient for Drake and Casey. We knew next to nothing about the house. It was located in our favorite neighborhood, Aro Valley. The rent was very reasonable, and their posting asked for a flatmate "who knows how to have fun, but is mature enough to clean up after themselves when it's over". When we finally learned the address, we decided to head over a coffee in the neighborhood and a sneak peek, even thought the "interview" wasn't until the following afternoon.

Our hearts sank as we counted the house numbers up to 87a Aro Street. This is what we found: Number 87 Aro Street was a creaky-looking fish and chips shop, and we could see the stairs leading up to apartment above it. Of all the places for a flat! We sat in the cafe across the street, crest-fallen. Should we cancel? They seemed so nice. Maybe it was a cozy paradise inside, despite appearances.

The following day, we received good news: one of the flats we'd seen was willing to take us. They were very far outside the city center, and it was going to take some getting used to. They wanted a commitment from us, and Jay was all for it, but I couldn't shake my intuition that it was the wrong choice. Against all logic, I was holding out for Drake and Casey. We decided to keep our appointment with them. We had climbed the stairs outside the fish and chips shop and were about to knock, when I had a sudden suspicion. Remembering Wellington's odd habits of numbering houses, I told Jay to wait while I ran down the driveway.

And our luck changed: A house with a garden, surrounded by roses, lavender and native plants. Drake and Casey turned out to be Kiwis around our age, with a lot of common interests. They were looking for flatmates to help them make a home out of a house. We sat by the gas fire drinking coffee and talking animatedly for hours. They showed us the room upstairs with windows on three sides and views of the hills, but we barely looked at it, we were so certain it was the right place for us. And so here we are now, finally moved in, settling in at last.

2006-03-23T22:22:00.000-08:00

Fall is definitely coming here. There are still warm sunny days, but some of the leaves are already changing and I can't ever leave the house without a jacket for when the wind picks up. Recently, the gray, misty weather has set in as promised, and we were treated to the dramatic sight of the clouds draping down over the bordering hills and slowly closing in to cover the city in spitting, delicate rain. Fortunately, the wind has been calm enough that my umbrella has only been blown inside-out twice so far. I can see why people don't use them much here.

Although rain seems to threaten frequently, we haven't yet developed the instincts to tell us if those dark, low-hanging clouds are actually going to pour on us (as we've experienced on a couple occasions) or just hang up there happily threatening all day without ever releasing a drop. The weather reports are consistently vague each day, with the whole operatic production in several movements we witness crossing the sky every day being summed up by one of the following adjectives: "occasional showers", "cloudy", "freshening in the afternoon" or simply "fine". The highs and lows they announce also rarely have bearing in reality. Watching our fellow citizens for clues doesn't help much. People here never seem to react to the changing conditions or even look up worriedly at the sky, despite its sometimes ominous appearance. We've witnessed many instances when half the passersby are wearing windbreakers and wool wraps, and the other half are in flip-flops and tank tops, all seeming perfectly comfortable!

Wellington is extremely hilly and the street maps never show the topography, so what looks like it will be right down the street can often be several hundred feet straight above you, or across a valley and back up again, for example. It makes getting around on foot a bit of an adventure. The really unique thing is all the pedestrian shortcuts that are built into the hills. They usually aren't on the maps either, but they are so common, that you can pretty much be sure if you are heading towards what looks like a dead end for cars, you will find a set of steps cutting between the houses in a narrow alleyway at the end of it, leading you up to the next terrace. Some of the shortcuts turn out to be fantastic little nature walks, with overhanging, mossy plants and steep switchbacks. One minute you're in the city and the next you're deep inside the forest. And then you pop out the other side on a little suburban street again. Many lucky homeowners have houses that can only be reached by these little hidden walkways -- you can't drive up to them at all. The wealthier folks have installed little automated trolley tracks that carry a few bags of groceries up the incline to their front doors for them.

Recently, we went for a long walk up into the "Town Belt" which is the extensive greenspace buffer surrounding the central city built-in by the original settlers and city planners. We started out at "Central Park" which, unlike its namesake is located in Brooklyn (yes, there is a Brooklyn, NZ) and it is very small. Wellington is known for its characteristic pine-covered hills surrounding the central city and harbor. It surprised me to learn that although these beautiful trees are mostly over a hundred years old, they are far from being native forest. The majority of trees are species imported from Monterey, California (chosen for their ability to adapt to the harsh seaside conditions) and planted during a massive beautification campaign at the end of the 19th century. Prior to that time, the Town Belt was mainly used for grazing sheep and cattle, and had degenerated into a band of brown, muddy, bare hills that largely detracted from the reputation of the city. In the valleys between the pines are dense, moist thickets filled with one of New Zealand's most unique plants: tree ferns. We mistook these fantastic plants for palm trees for weeks after arriving, and thought it strange that such a tropical plant could survive so far south.

2006-03-21T22:04:00.000-08:00

The University

I've just finished my 3rd week of classes and I'm starting to get the hang of this again (it's been 5 years since I was a full-time student). The school's website states: "The Master of Library and Information Studies (MLIS) programme sets you on course to organise the knowledge content of the twenty-first century as a Librarian, Information Manager, Knowledge Manager, Website Content Manager, or Intranet Manager."

I picked VUW based on their committment to teaching new technology as it applies to the field of Library Science. Technology is central to the emerging role of Librarians, as I see it. Already we've touched on some fundemental concepts that provide the framework for the web and electronic cataloging systems such as XML and HTML. As it turns out the same technology that encodes and dispalys webpages has been used for over a decade with electronic cataloging systems. To put this concept into one word I'd say it's interoperability.

(A picture of the Library and Information Management building)

To avoid the redundancy of each and every library creating its own catalog entry for every item (some may be unique, but the vast majority of materials exist in duplicate versions all over) a system of standards was needed. At the most basic level, a system of standards is needed to display a webpage on my computer screen and your screen in the same way. The markup languages like SGML, XML, HTML provide these frameworks for interoperability between systems. Now friends, thos of you who know better than I about this subject: hush! I'm only a beginner. I'd never even heard of XML before today.

This is the view from the library (and much of the campus). Our current apartment is just off the street seen in the very middle of image on the far right side (the right most window pane runs right over the actual building, you might have to click on the image to enlarge).

Don't worry though, we're also learning good old fashion reference techniques like open, neutral and closed questioning. My next big assignment is to submit a video taped reference interview of 7 minutes. No, this does not mean find the answer questions like "what is the height of Mt Everest," or even "what is the gestation period of an elephant." It's more like guiding someone through the research neccessary to analyse conflicts in the Middle East during the second half of the 20th century. The first part, though, is getting at the question. Studies show that well over half the reference questions requiring in depth research are not formulated sufficiently to begin research. In other words, someone walks up and says, "I'm looking for your newspapers." Which one? "I'm not sure." Are you looking for an article? "Maybe, I heard of a prominent local businessman who is being criticised for management practices." Do you know the company he works for? "No." You get the picture. Oh, and we're being taught to smile, show friendly, open posture and body language and to use an encouraging tone of voice to engender communication between the patron and the librarian.

Here's a look at a lecture hall that we use frequently--it's an old science room, but I like all the natural wood (the seats are terrible though).

I only have 4 classes a week, 2 hours apiece, 2 on Tuesday and 2 on Wednesday. That's nothing, you might say. Except that as a general rule we should be spending 10-12 hours a week for each course. The routine is this: we spend two hours in class going over material, we're assigned about 50-75 pages a week in readings, per class, and there is generally an assignment submission due each week. I've got about 6 or 7 major submissions for the semester (half of these are papers). The good news is that we don't have final exams in the course. Our assessment is based only on the projects and papers. What this means is that during the last few weeks of the semester when most are studying for exams... we're finished. I've got a month break coming up in June (that's winter, by the way).

In Minnesota you've got tunnels and skyways to protect people from the cold. Here in Wellington we've got a near-continous series of awnings along many of the major streets. On campus... well, the main quad is almost completely covered from the rain. This street (below), which cuts through the center of campus, is not covered and you can see people crowding on buses getting all wet. When it's raining the public transit sees a huge increase in riders.

The course is designed for distance learning. All of our readings (aside from a few texts) are PDF files. Each class issued a CD ROM which acts like a web page. Each week's content is called a "module" and we read through an outline of the content written by the professor which relates to the assigned readings. It's a nice arrangement except that I had a hard time adjusting to so much reading on the screen. A lot of students print out each week's readings (at 15c a page) but I felt like that was wasteful (of money and trees).
So here I am at home, hard at work studying and reading my texts on a screen.

2006-03-16T15:11:00.000-08:00

Foreign Cars

I'm back in the land of strange, small cars. Thank God! It's partly import laws, marketing stategies and partly the US perception that these tiny cars can't be safe of roadways filled with giant SUVs (which is true). Too bad, though, these are the coolest little automobiles I've ever seen. They resemble little sneakers.

Most of the micro cars have tiny, 1 litre engines, so they're not sporty. But given how small the engine is, they get great gas mileage. And since you can't drive over 60 m/p/h in New Zealand, it's not much of a problem.

Toyota, Honda, Mitsubishi and Volkswagen, all sell miniature cars here (very few, if any, are available in North America). Toyota's Yaris is a popular one.

These are some of the more common cars seen on the streets around Wellington. There are also plenty of mini-trucks or utility vehicles that are quite something as well. Take this yellow van for instance: an odd duck, but very likable, I'd say. More than anything, I'm just happy to see some different cars driving down the road. You might say I'd spent too much time in traffic in Minneapolis, staring at other cars--and that's true--but as common as cars are, why not enjoy looking at them?

2006-03-10T17:09:00.000-08:00

Abel Tasman National Forest, South Island, March 6-9, 2006

The Abel Tasman is one of New Zealand’s most visited National Parks. A well-traveled hiking trail runs along the coast for about 20 miles, winding in and out of forests, crossing beaches and ridge lines. Another popular method of travel through the park is by sea kayak.

Much of the forest, or bush, in the park is dense and impenetrable. Exploration beyond the well-trodden trails is difficult; spiny plants and dangerously steep slopes bar the way. The hiking trail does stop at many beaches but some locations are only accessible by water. Another benefit of visiting the park by kayak is that it’s the only way to see the intricate shoreline with its wind-carved cliff faces and rocky outcrops that descend into clear blue water.

Traveling by boat allowed us to see fur seals up close. They were hunted to near-extinction on the mainland and now reside on a few protected islands. The seals behave much like dogs; lying about in the sun, playing in the water with one another and competing for the best rocks to occupy.

We witnessed a steady stream of backpackers and tourists during our few days in the park. Anchorage bay, one of the largest campsites, was full with around 75 campers on our first night. The site has flushable toilets, a cooking area (sinks and counter space), and one source of filtered, drinking water. These amenities make for a very comfortable camping experience—if that’s what you're after. Camping is restricted to campground and all occupants must be pre-registered ($10/night). Every tent is checked each night to be sure everyone has their ticket.

Unlike the Boundary Water Canoe and Wilderness area in northern Minnesota, the Abel Tasman is quite busy. Multiple kayak groups are traveling at any one time and these guided trips are supported by water taxis--motorized boats that deliver people and supplies to various locations up and down the coast. In addition, there are privately owned motor boats running, carrying on as motor boats do, buzzing about and occasionally injuring penguins or other marine life.

As beautiful as it is, I felt the wilderness was slipping away. Has been for awhile, I guess, with native species disappearing and disappeared. Bye Moa!.. I'm sad we never got to meet. I hope to see your little cousin Kiwi someday soon.

You can see the rest of our pictures as a slideshow or as photos.

2006-03-08T18:07:00.000-08:00

Let me start out by saying...It is hard to imagine how else it could be possible to physically distance ourselves so far from our previous home and find ourselves in such a generally familiar environment. What I mean is, all of our concepts of how thngs ought to work and fit together -- how to navigate the city, what kind of food we can expect to find, what types of stores sell what types of things, what we can do to entertain ourselves -- are as similar to what we are used to as if we had just moved across the country, not over the Pacific Ocean to a new hemisphere. Many things are familiar to us from our time in Europe (such as the toilets that have both a flush and a half-flush option to conserve water; the little blue arrrows that point out curbs to drivers and the red-encircled kilometer speed limits; the large, safe public spaces and generally bustling foot traffic in the city). But many more things that I expected are familiar from the U.S., perhaps most noticeably people's attitudes (informal, frequently joking, irreverent, outgoing) and the widespread consumerism that enfolds us. I've found that if the actual brand or product I am used to buying isn't in the store (and quite a few American items are) then a Kiwi-made brand that fulfills exactly the same niche will be right where I look for it. My basic, daily desires can continue to operate along the old patterns. Of course, I find plenty of bonuses here and there (like my new love for fresh feijoa juice, flat white coffees and kumara). People here in Wellington obviously value high-quality things, in the realms of food, clothes, cars, art, design, living space, and they seem to willing to work to earn to spend to live well.

(Top photo shows me in our new apartment)

2006-02-26T18:55:00.000-08:00

A few days ago we wandered upon a bowling club late one evening. All the games were done for the day but, after being offered a few drinks, we were invited back to play on Sunday. Sunday's as it turns out, are pretty laid back and carefree. Which means there was a lot of drinking and not much competition on the greens. Despite this, teams were organized and we played in a number of games that afternoon. Naturally, the last game at around 5:00 was the least efficient as most of the folks had been drinking since noon. I for one got a terrible sun burn but managed to get MUCH better at the game--I played in one afternoon more bowls then ever before in my life.

A few things were new to me. One, we played the full green (in Minneapolis I had only played half court distances). It took some getting used to. Add to this expanisive and intimidating green an impressive wind force that made the bowls quiver in their places. Staring at them all move was like watching the earth shake. My team leader told me on a number of occassions to not be disheartened, "don't worry if you don't make it here in Wellington with the wind, if you play anywhere else from now on, you'll be a pro."

I loved every minute of lawn bowling up on the terrace of Brit's Pub in Minneapolis. Now I'm in a country that, owing to it's British heritage, loves the sport as much as I do.

2006-02-23T15:04:00.000-08:00

Hello All,

We made it!!

We're still living in a hostel and searching out permanent accomodation. We arrived Monday and have spent our days walking around to different parts of the city to see flats. We've been doing A LOT of walking but the nice thing is that we're learning our way around and getting loads of exercise. The city is very hilly. There are fabulous views at every turn.

The food and coffee here are absolutely fantastic. Design standards are very high. Lots of interesting architecture, interior decor of shops/restaurants is modern without being too plasticky. The music in public spaces is contemporary and reminds me of London. I'm happy with that!

Wellington is nick named 'Windy Wellington.' In our 5 days here I would say that is certainly true. Every day has been blustery at one time or another. Have you ever heard overhead electrical wires 'humming' from the wind? We often hear unattended bottles and drinking glasses breaking as the wind carelessly knocks them off table tops.

It feels like we're up in the clouds in the midst of the jet stream. And not just because it's windy. We're closer to the clouds here--they fly by quickly just over the tops of buildings and nearby hills. And though we're not closer to the sun, it feels like it. The light is intense and the sky deep blue. This reminds me of being in Colorado at high elevation but Wellington is only just above sea level.

We'll get more pictures together and post them soon. That's what you want to see anyways, isn't it? Enough talk already!

2006-02-14T00:09:00.000-08:00

It's late and we've just spent another long day shifting objects around inside the house, moving things from drawers to boxes and from pile to pile. The little storage pod is nestled up against the curb outside, but so far it's not seeing much use. At least we can console ourselves with the knowledge that, every day, more and more things are heading out the door never to be seen again and nothing is coming in. We've made it through the moving sale (in winter no less!), the used clothing, book and CD shops, the endless donation runs to the local thrift shop, the "abandoning things on the curb" phase (two old rusty bikes vanished themselves that way last night). We are now finally entering the "everything into the trash" portion of the move, which means we've managed to dig down pretty deep. All of the personalized bits of the house have been tucked away in plastic bins. Now the only way to go is out .

2006-01-30T14:43:00.000-08:00

In New Zealand birds thrived in the complete absence of predatory mammals. New Zealand became a place where birds could experiment with different kinds of behaviour, shape and size - a process scientists call 'adaptive radiation'. Birds used this freedom to occupy niches that elsewhere were filled by mammals.

Kiwi, like badgers and shrews of the Northern Hemisphere, left their burrows at night to sniff out insects and other food on the forest floor. Because of its behaviour and a number of physical features, including whiskers, 'hairiness', scent glands and nostrils for sniffing out food, the kiwi has been called the bird world's 'honorary mammal'.