Getting Hired

 Sometimes being in the right place at the right time means lounging around on the sofa in arm's reach of a vibrating cell phone. Private Call: this must be important.

I've been asked several times in the last few days, amongst skiing and snowboarding, out in the pubs, and volunteering at Winter Fest, “Aren't you worried about not having a job?”

Even this morning as Matty was slaving away calling in every half hour to see when the hold would be released so he could go to work (“Sounds like private line up,” I told him the other day) he asked me about why I wasn't making an effort to try to find any kind of work downtown. I told him, as I've been telling everyone in the last few days, that it just doesn't make sense to work and spend money asking everyone if they're hiring when the timing just isn't right. Work smarter, not harder, I say. Desperation is never the answer. Generally things tend to fall right into your lap when you're calm, relaxed, and going about your normal business.

Today, that's just what happened. On the other end of the phone was the friendly voice of Ant's friend, Cat, who is one of the recruiters for Good Group, owners of Good Bars, a chain of restaurants, bars and liquor shops in Queenstown and much of the South Island. Cat greeted me and asked if I had found a job yet. After answering no she offered me a temp position helping out with accounting for Good Group, a 9-5 position over the next 5 business days. The great thing is that even though I'll miss the dog race tomorrow, I'll get to go up to Coronet for the events Saturday and Sunday, and still be able to volunteer in the evenings!

I'll be making $15 an hour for 8 hours for 5 days, meaning that even if I'm in a 20% tax bracket I'll still receive $480, enough for rent and bills for two weeks! Plus, if I do a good job, I'll be in the same office as all the managers and might have a chance at being hired in one of the bars. It'll be perfect timing – right after Winter Fest and right when school holidays are starting. I know there are loads of new employees downtown that can't handle the pressure of high volumes of business. No one can compete with a New York trained bartender and waitress. That's not to say I'm the fastest and most capable NY bartender, far from it, but I'm a hell of a waitress, and the standards for bartending in some of the places here aren't too high. In Pub on Wharf yesterday the bartenders worked at a casual pace, even with a queue, whereas even though I wouldn't get more tips for faster service, a good manager should notice which bartender is making more sales. I can't believe they were only taking one order at a time – sheesh!  

Winterfest: Let the Winter Season Begin!

 I use a complicated network of blankets and straws to ensure that I have enough oxygen and warmth within my nest. I reach one arm out and draw my laptop into my cave.

With every calorie of heat that radiates off my body I become more and more glad that I hadn't agreed to volunteer for the Skin to the Summit event this morning. My hip is aching; it feels as if my muscles have shivered and tensed up so tightly over the course of the night that they've become fatigued and sore. Perhaps it's just that I've been curled up in the same position all night, afraid to toss and turn away from the pocket of warmth I've created for myself.

Either way, late in the morning I rouse myself and knowing that my ski clothes are much warmer, get myself together and get ready for skiing. I had been snowboarding the last 3 times I had headed up the mountain and was eager to get back on skis and pick up some speed. My nicely tuned edges grip into the hard pack and skied-off areas nicely and I don't have to worry about breaking hard – I can just carve into the snow and know I'm safe.

Since I have been staying up at Arthur's Point it isn't that much trouble to drive the rest of the way up to the mountain. I had taken the bus the day before with my snowboard. I walked down the short block and across the street to the bus stop and waited about 12-15 minutes for the bus to come by. I got there before noon and was picked up at 12:12pm, so I knew it was the last bus heading up; fortunately there was one seat for me, one whole seat on the whole bus. Well, what can you expect from a Sunday morning and a town full of backpackers with hangovers?

At the top of my second chair lift ride I was flagged down by Anthony and we took a few runs together before calling it a day. We made it down to the base and got some water and checked our mypass status and weren't in too much of a hurry to hop on the bus. Noticing the bus was waiting out front for quite some time and slowly filling up, we decided to hop on, mostly just because we didn't want to have to wait for the next bus to come to take 40 minutes to fill up and never get back. Even after the bus had been sitting there at least 15 minutes after I noticed it, we still waited at least 15-20 minutes before it left.

Needless to say, I really wanted to drive up with my skis today. I had picked up a roast beef and salad sandwich the evening before and some apples to leave in the car so I could eat when I got finished. I walked out to the car with my lunch, happy that the frost had melted off the windows in the late morning sun, and attempted to start it up. Unfortunately it didn't quite want to wake up just yet. The car was turning over nicely, but just didn't want to start up. I opened the hood so the sun could get to the engine and hopefully warm it up a bit more. Both Matty and I tried again but to no avail, just the delightful gas smell of a flooded starter.

I tried again in another hour and after a little love and coaxing the car started just before 11:30am. I had a leisurely drive up to the mountain and as I was rounding the corner to head up the road to Coronet, a little blinded by the glare of the sun through my windshield, I saw two girls with snowboards walking towards the edge of the park and ride trying to thumb a ride. I felt bad not picking them up, but I would have had to make a funky U-turn to come back and I think I've had enough funky U-turn incidents for my stay in Queenstown. I drove up another 1km and after thinking for a moment I realized that the real reason I didn't go back to pick them up is because they're chicks.

Anyway, I got my sexist self up to the mountain and got a great parking spot right near Greengates. I made it up the chair and texted Sian, a girl who I met from the couchsurfing website who works as a mascot up on the hill. Her days off are Tuesdays and Wednesdays and she was out skiing with her girlfriend Emily. I met up with them over by the T bar to take a few runs. I believe Sian is from England and Emily is originally from Tennessee and now from Colorado. We alternated between the groomed run with the rollers and exploring to the far side off-piste. Incredibly the snow was still fresh over there, very soft and even after a week not hard and cruddy, and near the bottom there was even fresh untouched powder!

Powder is like a Siren to me, temping me to venture blindly into unknown territory, and soon I realized I had skied down too far to be able to traverse over. I saw some tracks leading over two logs which were laid over a small creek as a make-shift bridge. I really wanted to just balls-out keep up my speed and coast over the bridge, but (perhaps fortunately) the logical side of my brain won out and I skidded to a stop and stepped over. Besides, I wanted to take a photo! You'll never believe I had to ski over a creek via snow-covered logs to get out of the ditch I had skied down, haha!

We took a few more runs together and made our way back towards the center of the hill. I skied down to the car, and thirsty as I normally am, greatly enjoyed my fresh, crisp apple. I drove leisurely down the hill again, watching the fuel gauge get lower and lower, hoping I would make it into town. At about the same spot as I had seen the girls earlier there was a guy trying to hitch a ride with a snowboard. Once again I felt guilty for not giving him a lift, but not only was I running out of fuel, but I had to stop inside the house for a few minutes when I got to Arthur's Point and just didn't want to deal with it all.

I did make it down to the Caltex before running out of petrol and was able to find a spot, after some searching, as a camper van was pulling away up on Man St near the Deco Backpackers. It's a shame I couldn't find a spot at the library when I legitimately wanted to go to the library, but at least I would have a nice walk. I strolled down to Beach St to use the internet cafe to print my CV and continued around the block to the office building above Kathmandu where Good Group had their offices. I went up the stairs and turned left to their reception area. The receptionist wasn't there but a friendly gentleman saw me and greeted me and said he would put the CV on Cat's desk.

Satisfied with my delivery I walked down the stairs and into the bathrooms I had seen on the way up. So far they are the warmest bathrooms in town, being nestled inside a nice warm office building. It may also be because at that time of day the mid-afternoon sun was still shining, but the bathrooms were properly enclosed and not open to the elements in any way.

After my evaluation of the restrooms in the office building I decided to continue my walk around by the lake, past the Novotel, and trying to stay in the sun, up the southern side of Camp St. Moments later the sun ducked behind the mountains near the Skyline Gondola and I continued onwards to the library. It took me a few tries to find the actual door to go in, but as I entered I saw they were selling old books for only a dollar. Instead of getting a library card I bought 4 books, one fantasy, one travel/historical fiction, one by a New Zealand author and a classic by Jane Austin, a well-rounded selection in my opinion. I returned home to shower, have some lunch/dinner and rest before heading back downtown for the Mardi Gras festival and the Canadian Club Comedy Night. I had sent Louise a text asking if they needed anyone for the comedy show and fortunately I was able to go – half eight at the outdoor American Express tent called the Ice Box – that doesn't sound like it would be cold at all.

Hours later, after finding some parking at the library, I walked through the streets of town, en route to Pub on Wharf, where I would meet up with Ant, Sam and Ruth for Sam's birthday. As I briskly walked through town, I couldn't hide a huge smile on my face, loving the bustling crowds of people livening up the city. The sounds of the band playing on the stage in the middle of the street mixed with the vibrant scents of street vendor food reminds me so vividly of home, of all the festivals and carnivals I've enjoyed with close friends and family, and of every time I walk down the streets of New York City, so full of life. I love tourists towns, maybe in part for that reason, that there are so many walks of life, all coming together in one place, and everyone is there to enjoy themselves and take part in the festivities. Everything comes to life during festivals and when the tourists fill the streets. Soon the hotels and restaurants will be bustling, time to work and make money, and meet new people from different cultures. So exciting! It's finally begun!

As I made my way down the streets, the vivacity of it all brought warmth to my bones. The liveliness and closeness of all the people milling about kept the city warm and cozy. 'This is almost as crowded as the M1,' I thought to myself as I weaved through the crowds as I neared the wharf. I entered Pub on Wharf and instead of seeing Ant I practically walked straight into Nigel. He was out with two of his friends, and were about to make their way towards the Vudu cafe to get some quality mulled wine. Ant had apparently been en route to the pub when he got distracted by the Philipino BBQ. I went with Nigel up to Vudu and listened to the band playing on the stage right in the street. 'They have a good sound for 12 year olds,' I commented to myself. I wasn't trying to be cynical, but they did look very young, and honestly, they did sound good!

I saw Matty walking by and joined him in our quest to find our birthday boy. As we meandered through the crowds by the stage on the wharf again I saw Anthony, Claire, and a few other people from the hostel and said hello.

“This is starting to feel like Park City already, where you can't walk 10 feet down the street without seeing people you know!” I told Matty with a smile.

We met up with Ant, Sam, Ruth, and Ant's friend Ian inside of Pub on Wharf for a few beers. It had been a few days since I saw Sam and Ruth and was happy to hear they found a nice Canadian girl who works at Vudu Cafe to be their other roommate. Apparently she walks all the way there and back, about 45 minutes each way! Good on her. Unfortunately my visit was a bit short, but I did manage to evaluate the warmth of the bathroom (quite toasty but a long queue) and buy Sam a beer. I said goodbye and headed towards the Ice Box to usher for the comedy show.

When I arrived I was quite snug in my green Bonfire ski jacket and black Roxy hat with the Festival Logo embroidered on the front. I had my nice black slacks on over my thick thermals and grey ski socks and dark boots. I was still wearing my three layers from skiing, which was soon reduced to two because we had to wear some Canadian Club-style plaid shirts. They were cute, but didn't have very big sizes and I didn't want to wear the guys' shirts. There were a few other ushers I recognized, and some new faces as well. Our manager for the night was Karen, decked out in aqua- colored Roxy ski pants and a fitted black Roxy parka with the American Express Winter Festival logo displayed smartly across the back.

We were given floor plans and a tour of the fire exits and waited not too much longer before the guests arrived. Two girls were sent up to the foyer of the tent to scan tickets and three of us were assigned to help guests to their tables. The front tables were of two sizes, large white ones with white wooden seats accommodating 8 people and looking like they belonged more appropriately at the Saratoga Race Track, and smaller more chic tables that would accommodate 4 people with shiny metallic tops. The few tables in the back were high-top bar-area tables, with taller black plastic chairs. Small chandeliers hung from the crevice at the top of the tent and pink, blue and purple lights played on transparent snow flake designs at the front of the tent. The lighting and décor created a cool, crisp ambiance, while floor heaters and gas fires at the sides of the tent, not to mention the bar in the back of the room, kept us all warm.

Upon each seat was placed a can of Canadian Club dry, a pre-mixed drink, and as soon as people entered they went straight to the bar in the back. I hadn't felt like a drink before while I was out, but I definitely felt like one now, a nice mulled wine to warm me up, or even something carbonated like the Canadian Club dry. Maybe all the advertising just made me want one, or maybe the thrill of getting a free drink. Perhaps my throat was just a bit parched after chatting and directing people to their tables.

The show started not long after 9:30pm and consisted of three stand up comedians. I really enjoyed the kiwis' perception of Americans - “everything is big in America!” as well as their jokes about their own culture and country. Most of the jokes about America centered around our ridiculous reaction to terrorism and how strict we are about airline security. It's true though, for New Zealand domestic flights they pretty much scan your bag and wave you through. I still can't figure out why they stopped to search me and my bags when I was getting on the plane in LAX. “Did you come from a cold weather area?” asked the lady who pulled me aside for the search and placed my ski jacket down on the table. “No, I'm going to a cold weather area.” Obviously she missed the memo about the southern hemisphere having winter.

The entire comedy show was thoroughly entertaining. I laughed out loud quite a few times and was rather enjoying it all, especially my nice warm spot in front of the heater. They had handed the volunteers cold water bottles, and I found myself needing to both hydrate and cool myself several times. Life was good. Just after the intermission I attended to my other role of checking the women's bathrooms, squished down the rubbish with my foot, and thought to myself, 'Job well done.'

The show ended just before 11:30pm, long enough to be entertained and get your money's worth, but not so long that it ruined the entertainment value by dragging on. I turned in my plaid shirt, got my nice warm ski jacket back on, and headed towards the library parking lot. I stopped on the way home at Fresh Choice to get my much-coveted oatmeal and restock the black tea bags at Matty's house. I picked up a box of 100 ceylon tea bags, the oatmeal, and a fresh box of couscous and headed back to the house. Another successful day in Queenstown.  

Dining in Queenstown: A Food (and Bathroom) Review

24 June

 In the midst of my search for warm Queenstown bathrooms I am also researching cheap but quality meals downtown. I am not as concerned with lunches, though there are a few $10 lunches about, but when you can get a $10 dinner and meet up with friends, that's where the value lies.

On Friday nights the Tanoa Aspen Hotel has a $10 fish and chips meal, including a house wine or beer. The Tanoa Aspen Hotel is located up in Fernhill on Fernhill Rd, easily accessible by bus or 20-25min walk from anywhere downtown. When we arrived just before 7pm the restaurant was relatively empty, about three tables in the dining room taken and a couple sitting by the fireplace.

We were greeted promptly and the waiter put in our order for three fish and chips meals. Sam had ordered a beer, and Ruth and I ordered the red wine, myself getting the Cabernet Merlot which was quite flavorful and pleasant, also served promptly along with a bottle of tap water.

The restaurant area began to fill up as we began our drinks and people were taking a moment to step outside on the balcony in anticipation of the opening ceremony fireworks. As with most things in this town the fireworks did not start right at 7pm, but as I expected, started just moments after our food arrived at the table. We had waited about 15-20 minutes for our dinners, which was well-worth the quality of the fish and chips. The major down side of having fish and chips at the Tanoa Aspen Hotel is the fact that they don't have malt vinegar, which is an absolute necessity when eating a proper fish and chips meal, but I did ask for white vinegar, which was a mildly acceptable substitute.

The quality of the fish was quite good, tender and moist enough to retain the flavor of the fish; the breading was crispy and fresh without being greasy or overdone. The chips are also well-prepared, crisp around the edges but never soggy or burnt. A tasty but not oily tartar sauce and tomato sauce and slice of lemon accompany the meal. As my first fish and chips experience in New Zealand I have nothing to compare it to as of yet, but I would definitely recommend this meal to anyone. The quality of the wine and the fish and chips is amazing for the price, and if you get there early enough to see the sun fading off into twilight it would be an exceptional view in a comfortable dining room. When you're finished with your meal you can use their warm indoor bathrooms.

I was able to see the fireworks as my hot meal cooled a bit since the fireworks only lasted about ten minutes. They were a bit far off down the hill and looked smaller than I had anticipated, but they had a nice variety and were pleasant to watch for a few minutes before I returned to my meal. My dinner with Sam and Ruth not only had a pleasant beginning, but also ended on a high note. Sam and Ruth had spent the entire day looking at and test driving about 7 cars and were in a bidding war with two other girls for the one they had made an offer for. They had wanted to spend between $1000-1500 for a 4wd manual hatchback, but offered $1200 for a '95 Nissan Bluebird, a 2wd automatic sedan. As an all around package it was the best for them. When they received a text saying the girls had offered $1300 Sam texted back $1350 and before our meal had finished they were sorted with both housing and a vehicle!

Things were also starting to look better for myself as well. Just before we left I received a text message from Louise from the Winter Festival committee asking if I could volunteer for the parade the following morning at 9:30am. Finally, some work!

26 June

The second meal I am going to highlight is a delicious curry dinner at the Tandoori Palace on lower Shotover St, around the corner from the wharf. The bathrooms are cold, however, so I would recommend going before the meal when you still might be warm from walking there. You'll need to get the key from behind the counter and walk outside and around the corner to a quite chilly restroom, but at least it's clean.

The Tandoori Palace offers a special between 5-7:30pm every night where all curries are $10 and include basmati rice. “I would like your warmest table,” I stated when I walked in. The restaurant was relatively empty when we arrived so I decided not to sit at any of the tables around the corner in the back so they could actually see us. In these countries where they don't tip the wait staff you have to be careful that you don't sit somewhere where you can't flag down the wait staff if you need them. I suppose it's a matter of preference whether you like to be hovered over and catered to or if you would rather be left alone, but I think it's up to a good server to gauge how often the party would like to see you at their table.

We took a nice seat in the front area of the dining room, but not too close to the windows or the door. Starving as we were after a bad experience at World Bar, having been promised free BBQ from 5-7pm and waiting until 6pm for nothing, we decided to order some garlic and cheese naan, a bit fancier than the plain or garlic naan, fueled by our hunger and aggravation. I'm just glad we made it to Tandoori Palace before the true extent of my hunger-induced grumpiness was revealed to my new friend, Owen. Owen is from Melbourne and is taking a break from working as an auto mechanic to spend the season in Queenstown. We had walked down to World Bar with the promise that there would be a free BBQ in celebration of Winter Fest from 5-7pm with cheap drinks. We left just before 6pm, thinking the “free BBQ” was probably a scam to get people in to buy drinks while waiting around. Either way, they probably did us a favor since I was sort of geared up for curry as a backup plan anyway.

Along with the garlic and cheese naan we had agreed to split the Lamb Vindaloo and the Lamb Rogan Josh, the vindaloo a bit spicier in a red sauce, and the rogan josh a flavorful brown sauce. We had ordered the vindaloo hot, and though I could taste the spice it wasn't what I consider hot. Both dishes were very flavorful and the lamb was tender, not the best lamb I've ever tasted, but definitely acceptable quality for an Indian restaurant. My evaluation of Indian food may be a bit skewed because Indian food in upstate New York is actually quite good quality and I have been used to it growing up. The food arrived in a reasonable amount of time and the portions were decent, again barring my American heritage where the average restaurant portion could feed the entire family and then some. The only thing I find lacking with Indian food is that you don't get a very well-rounded meal and even the veggie dishes only have one or two ingredients in curry. These days it's difficult for me to feel sated without a nice sized salad or side of veggies.

I would definitely recommend Tandoori Palace's $10 curry happy hour special. All curries are $10, including the seafood curries, which I am quite looking forward to trying. Two people could easily split a meat curry and a veggie curry, as well as plain naan for $3.50 to get a well-rounded meal, or even two veggie curries, a meat curry and naan for only $33.50. When eating on the cheap, the $10 dish is a great deal for dinner, and the restaurant is a comfortable place to sit and visit with friends. Just use the bathroom before leaving home!

28 June

Our third meal deal is the daily happy hour sushi at Minami, across the street from the wharf on Beach St. I went with Matty at 6pm on Monday after some great snowboarding, and met up with Sophie and Ant. The happy hour sushi special runs from 5:30-7pm and there are a few options available for the $10 happy hour sushi box; an 18 piece maki, 8 piece nigiri or 9 piece sashimi. I was the only one at the table who ordered the nigiri – I would have ordered sashimi but without rice I would have been absolutely starving, and everyone else ordered the maki.

The wait staff was quite attentive and it was easy to get their attention sitting in the middle of the restaurant. Again, I had opted for what looked like the warmest table, and it was actually quite pleasantly warm inside the restaurant. I decided to forego the sake because I would need to drive later on, but I had a sip of it and it was quite flavorful and of good quality. Generally I need the sake to be scaldingly hot because I don't like the sharp taste of the alcohol, but I was able to taste the sweet rice flavor of the sake instead of being overwhelmed with burning alcohol. Minami also has a selection of Japanese beers and local beers and wines.

We got our food in a reasonable amount of time, and after my 8 pieces of nigiri I knew I needed to order more because it would be too long before I could get somewhere to make some food of my own. I decided to order a maki box, which included one 6-piece roll of salmon and cucumber, one cucumber roll and one tuna roll. I had agreed to split it evenly with Matty, but he was pretty much full and my ravenous evening appetite, fueled by cold and exhaustion and possibly trying to fight off illness, had taken over. Even after the maki I was still hungry and ordered a green salad. I'm never satisfied now without the greens.

The salad was quite delightful, though the lettuce came in big chunks and would have been difficult to eat without a knife and still maintain dignity, but at least I was with friends, and I was hoping they weren't looking. The brown vinaigrette dressing seemed to be a bit balsamic in nature, though I'm sure it had hints of ginger in it as well. All in all, for a light meal it was excellent quality. The fish was fresh and flavorful, the rice warm and robust, and the salad had tomato, cucumber and a tangy delicious dressing. Overall I would definitely recommend Minami's happy hour sushi, though I would either order a bowl of rice or have something to eat beforehand. It effectively took two boxes of sushi and a green salad for me to feel satisfied, followed by a hot pot of green tea, which came to $21.50, having split one of the boxes. It's not a cheap meal, but for sushi that is probably the best value you can find for this type of quality in Queenstown.  

Thriller in the Chiller

 'How often do I get to usher celebrity boxing matches in New Zealand?' I thought to myself. 'Ok, I'll do it.'

It was a tough decision for me – I was quite set on the happy hour sushi, but as Dottie reminded me, it's every day. I needed to sit for a minute, as I had just gotten the text message asking me to volunteer for the event as I was sitting down and meeting new friends, but after a moment I ran to the restroom of Old Man Rock, which is cold by the way, and checked to see if I could make my thermals look like black leggings tucked into my dark boots.

“I can make it work,” I said to Dottie, Viviana and Selena. I apologized for getting up and leaving abruptly and ran towards my car, which was just a few minutes over the thirty minute parking regulation. I grabbed a $5 salmon and salad sandwich from Night 'N Day and continued running to my car.

This is my life in Queenstown – it reminds me of the movie “Yes Man” starring Jim Carrey, about the theory of always saying yes to opportunities to better your life. The movie takes the concept to an absurd extreme, but the basic idea is a strong motivating factor for me in real life. Besides, I'm always open to a new adventure. If they're not fun, they at least build character.

I arrived at the Queenstown Event Center just after 6pm, only 40 minutes after I had received the text message, and a few hours after I had dragged my scruffy self home from snowboarding. I was really looking forward to washing my hair tonight, but that again will have to wait. After I put my coat and corduroy pants upstairs I took part in a briefing about the fire exits and emergency procedures and donned my fluorescent orange high-vis ' respect my authoritai' vest.

“Look at the person next to you. Make sure that if we have to evacuate that person is standing next to you in the field past the roundabout,” Mike told us.

“I was on the plane with you,” said the brown-haired girl next to me.

“It's funny that you recognized me,” I told her as our tour of the room moved around the room. “I never recognize anyone.”

Apparently she hadn't found a job either, but we agreed that volunteering for the festival was an exciting way to spend some time. Accepting positions as a last minute volunteer was definitely the only way I would have gotten to see Sugar Ray Leonard, that's for sure. He was the featured celebrity during the opening of the boxing match. The competitors were local Queenstown residents, owners of bars, or employees for popular venues or agencies. They had been training for weeks for this event, and some of them went all-out and gave an exciting show!

After the rush of people coming in right at 7:30pm, when we were supposed to start, I thought to myself how much I take after my mom, her ushering during the summers at SPAC and all. I actually quite enjoyed helping people find their tables and sections. Although the rush only lasted about 10 minutes or so I felt it was the most solid 10 minutes of work I had done since my second to last shift at the Blue Iguana on May 1^st.

The first half of the show was quite exciting; they featured two young girls, one 9 and one 11 years old, who performed an exhibition karate match. One of the girls was the recipient of an award fund set up for young athletes and her team had traveled all the way to Japan to compete. After the karate match they introduced Sugar Ray Leonard. They introduced him as a renowned athlete and philanthropist and later auctioned off some of his signed boxing gloves.

The first few rounds of the boxing match were a bit slow, but got better when the two girls, one from SkyCity Casino, and the other from AJ Hackett Bungy, were really going at it. It was certainly the best fight until the very last one of the night which actually ended in a KO; the women were always moving and were fierce and relentless. It was clear that the accountant from the casino was being tossed around but she still endured the whole three rounds.

I'm glad the crowd was well-behaved. I kept a pretty good eye on everything, but wasn't quite in the mood to break up rowdy drunk people. I'm always amused when people in pure white fur shawls and satin dresses and suits and ties with shoes that probably cost more than my skis cost, retail, order bottle after bottle and get totally pissed. They're just like everyone else who bought the $59 bleacher tickets who are dressed in jeans and collared shirts and warm coats, maybe even sneakers, drinking cans of pre-mix drinks and lagers.

Right after the intermission I finally recognized the woman whose face I knew I had seen somewhere. Again, trying to take every opportunity available to me I went up to her and asked, “Hi, are you Cat?”

“Yes,” she said, and after a moment recognized me as well and said, “Ant's friend, right?”

She had asked if I had found work yet, and explained how the hiring process had worked after their recruitment session, and that she had tried to send me through to the next round of interviews. I knew I wasn't going to get anywhere since I hadn't actually handed in my CV, but she suggested I drop it off to her office in case they needed anyone else. Excellent – so I've already seen Sugar Ray Leonard and have a second chance at being hired by the Good Bars company. 

The night drew on, and I became more and more tired. By this point I was sitting in one of the chairs in the back corner labeled “USHER” and wishing the event would end. As exciting as it was, I had been looking forward to sitting around this evening and doing nothing, and staying warm, even inside buildings, is a challenge in this town, especially when I'm worn out. I wonder if I will lose weight just by all the shivering I am doing, much like when I had my fever.

When everyone had left we were assigned to collecting and moving all the tables and chairs in the room. With the bright overhead lights and sounds of power tools it reminded me of the long nights we spent after performances striking the set. Just after 1am my adventure as a volunteer at the Thriller in the Chiller celebrity boxing match for Winter Festival in Queenstown had come to an end.

I must share one more thing with you, though I think I will be hated for it. While we were waiting for the general public to leave so we could clear out the room, the organizers had ordered Fergburger for us. I had been starving all day and through the event and was excited to try one, especially after trying their onion rings the night before. The onion rings were an example of perfection. The breading was crisp and light and not even slightly greasy, and the onions were neither soggy nor raw, cooked just perfectly within a crispy fried batter. It's saying quite a bit that I enjoyed them because I don't eat fried foods and I really don't care much for onions.

Anyway, the fries were decent, but I wasn't too terribly impressed by the burger. I enjoyed the salad on top, and the aioli on the bun was delicious, but the burger itself seemed a bit dry and tasteless. Now that I write this, I'm really missing the Buffalo Burgers at No Name Saloon. Sorry, Queenstown, but I just can't give it a good rating. I also tried the vegetarian patty, which was tasty, but also a bit dry and not nearly as flavorful as some other veggie patties I've tried, including the ones that Perisher's food areas sold. The Fergburger patty came with what looked like slices of avocado on top, and pickles, but the ones at Perisher had beetroot and salad and a whole lot of flavor.

All in all, a great night, exciting, and definitely a great story to add to my Queenstown biography. It is just after 2am now, and I am completely exhausted, a bit cold, ashamed that I am coming in so late as a houseguest, but at least not hungry. Goodnight!

A Minor Bump in the Road

 “The position's already been filled,” Clark tells me, and as cheesy as it sounds, my heart sinks. It's as if he looked straight into my eyes and told me, 'I don't give a shit if you exist.'

I wish I were better at saying what I mean at the right time. I followed up and said, “I didn't even know you were hiring when I dropped off my CV,” and left out, “But I was really keen to work here,” with emphasis on the word here, which I later thought to say as I was walking down the street. Maybe then he would remember me as the girl who really wanted to work at Speight's Ale House. Now he'll remember me as the girl he didn't care existed, if he remembers me at all. I went in to ask him for an interview for the position the evening before, and he said to come back around 4pm, but apparently hired someone within that time, or had an idea of who he wanted to hire, but had me come back anyway. Maybe he just didn't want to hire me. I just hope that their delicious porter doesn't have a foul taste when I go back to drink it; that would probably be the greatest tragedy of all.

Though, having the feeling that people don't care you exist is always disheartening. That's why I absolutely love my life in Park City. It really didn't take long for me to feel at home there, and maybe I'm still in that stage in Queenstown. Maybe after I invest the time I'll feel I have to come back; maybe Queenstown is the kind of place that's difficult to make work for just a short time. It's not that no one gives a shit that I exist – I'm here, after all, because my friends are here. Again, I can't help but wonder if I'm doomed to be a full time ski instructor this season!

It's hard not to ponder the alternatives to staying in Queenstown the season after being rejected from the only place that I knew had an intent to hire. Every other restaurant is well-staffed, and I suppose I just wasn't in the right places at the right times. Maybe I should have been out at the bars meeting every Tom, Dick, and Harry from Queenstown from day one. Still, it seems ludicrous the amount of time and work I am putting into trying to work, or even trying to work for free, since they didn't even need any more volunteers for Winter Fest!

Sometimes I feel like such a 16-year old here. I drive either like a 16-year old or an old man, either slowly and carefully, or making weird U-turns and such. I'm competing with hundreds of kids for jobs I'm over-qualified for which would make next to no money. I believe $15 an hour here is a decent wage, and while that's still about $11USD an hour, better than a lot of our hourly wages, food and other basic needs are far more expensive.

As I said, it's hard not to think about leaving. It's hard not to think about staying another month, enjoying the nightlife and meeting people, skiing and snowboarding whenever I want, cooking whatever I like to eat, whenever I want to eat it, losing weight by not having the stress of working, and being able to hike and workout whenever I want, being able to fly back to go to Clair's wedding in August, and living for free at home. I could see Emily in NJ, or stay with Aunt Sandy and go to the beach every day, or sail on Meg's boat! Is this situation kind of like when I was at UCSD, where I was determined to stay and stick it out just on principle even though it just didn't make sense? I'd feel... kind of like a failure I suppose, and I hate that feeling. I don't think anyone from home would feel that way about me, but I think it would haunt me internally.

The other thing about flying back to the US that would trouble me is where I would work until winter. Working at a restaurant in Albany would just be depressing, and it would be too late to get something in Saratoga; I could go back to Blue Iguana in Park City, or maybe even go back to Schiff to be able to pay off all my bills from this trip! The trouble is, I doubt I'd really be all that better off financially if I went back. It would just be more vacation in a different location.

Ugh, I sort of hate having this struggle with myself. It would be such a waste of a work visa if I went back. I can work wherever I want and I like that freedom. If I came back I would have to be sponsored for somewhere specifically. I think I am just going to relax, in an irresponsible 'eh, whatever' kind of way, do what I want when I want, and enjoy this crazy town and their festival, ski their mountains, and enjoy my excellent exchange rate!

Everything works out when it Snows

 Success! Everything in life works out when it snows! I woke up just after 7:30am, gave up on any attempt to sleep and began going about my morning routine. First is to take some vitamins and drink about 400mL of water, then grab my toothbrush, toothpaste and floss, make sure I've got my towel and key and my sweater before I head to the bathroom, get my slippers on, take a look at the window at the fresh snow falling on a white-painted Queenstown city-scape... wait... Back up.

'Oh my God,' I whispered audibly as the white and bleak grey morning were the only two colors hitting my eyes. It was just like the morning I had woken up in Amarillo, Texas, seeing the entire city, every branch of every tree, every fallen leaf, every untouched car, railing, and stone covered with soft, fresh snow. In a hurry I flew out to the kitchen to begin my breakfast and sped to get ready to head up the mountain. Powder day!!!

They say it only snows about 2-3 times per winter season in Queenstown – I think this is a good sign. On the 23^rd of June we had accumulated at least an inch or two between 7-8am. The roads were full of a slushy mess and footprints filled the sidewalk and roadway going down into town. I had to take some video of the soft snow falling gently over the city, serene and slowly waking up to the day. I walked down to the Snow Center with my skis on my pack on my back and my camcorder in my ski jacket pocket. I was on a mission. Snow! In Queenstown!

The bus just before 9am was hardly crowded, but eventually filled up enough to brave our way up the roads, chain-equipped, towards our powdery fresh tracks. I decided to head up to Coronet, knowing that the true powder hounds would head to Remarks, and I would be left with the tourists and run after run of fresh tracks and comfortable high-speed lift rides.

It only took slightly longer to get to the base of Coronet in the snow than it normally does; they told us the difficult part of the trek was up to Arthur's Point, most likely because it was paved road and curvy with lots of banked hills. It's neigh impossible to drive slower up the gritted road to Coronet than they do on a regular basis, so that part of the trip didn't take any longer. I saw that one of the buses was stuck in a ditch on our side of the road and was quite glad I had nothing to do with that bus ride!

The mountain itself was very quiet and I headed up the Coronet Express at about 10am. More eager to document a powder day in the southern hemisphere than to take a powder run (no one was going to steal my line anyway, even if I had one), I took some video and then headed down the left hand side. For only an hour it looked like most of the employees and locals had already taken the best lines, and the area was so wind-blown it was difficult to see what was on the other side of some of the drifts, and in the mini half pipe crevices you couldn't see if you were going to fall into a hole! I sped up one drift and landed on the grass! I still need to get a sense of where the powder accumulates and where it gets wind-blown before I go all-out.

I skied over to the T-bar area, where I actually got the best runs of the day. The run on the near side of the T-bar where I see people doing race training was relatively untracked and very smooth; it had obviously been groomed the night before and the fresh snow had fallen evenly on it. The meadow behind the rock on the far side of the T-bar, as well as the groomed trail there were also spectacular. I got some nice, smooth powder turns on the off-piste section, and coasted through the white velvet carpet of snow on top of the groomed run. The best part about the groomed run on the far side is that near the bottom where it seems to flatten out it actually has several contours and rollers. Again it's a little tough to see the other side of the contours, so a sound knowledge of the mountain would definitely help avoid some nasty obstacles!

I headed over to Greengates and enjoyed the powder through some of the chutes and natural halfpipe areas. The far off-piste area by the boundary was almost untouched, as was a small area between cat tracks. I tried to take some video of people enjoying the powder but couldn't quite get a good shot, and even after trying to set up the tri-pod no one was coming past and the tri-pod wasn't very stable.

When I had first arrived at 10am the sun was shining and there were only a few clouds in the sky. By late morning the winds had picked up; I had hardly noticed until I was standing out there with my video camera waiting for people to come by through the chutes and my hand was absolutely freezing. I spent more time on Greengates then went inside for a while. By the time I went out for another run at 1pm the winds had picked up quite a bit more and the sun was struggling to show itself through a wall of grey. The Greengates was running slow when I hopped on it, and ironically enough sped up just as I was getting off. Still, a good day of skiing was about to come to an end and I took some video from the base before heading off back to town.

In high spirits I got back to the hostel to find that some of my friends had made a snowman with glasses and a carrot nose! On my way down the mountain I had texted Di to let her know that I wanted to take the room I had seen the night before, and was waiting to hear back, hoping it wouldn't take days to find out whether I was being considered or not. The day before had been another full day of house-hunting, just like the Tuesday before. Our exhausting search was finally coming to a much-welcomed end.

I began my day on Tuesday helping Ruth and Sam move from Last Resort backpackers up to Deco. I spent the morning on the internet and started to make more beetroot soup after we arrived back at the hostel. Ruth looked at me despondently from across the table; I wished I could say, “smile!” or “cheer up!” without seeming cheesy. I showed her the video I had taken at Coronet and Remarks and on our hike up to the gondola, which lightened the mood. It was a quiet morning at the hostel, and they were waiting for the couple to move out of their room. Fortunately it didn't take long and they were able to get about their day.

Just before 2pm I put my things away and started my brisk walk up to Fernhill. The sun was still warming the town and I decided not to worry about the forecasted rain for the moment. I arrived at Aspen Grove only 20 minutes after I left the hostel and saw a man who worked for Steve, who owned the house. He showed me around and I was disappointed to see two double beds and two closets in the large room that was available. I was also disappointed to see the mirror room was just the same. Well, four girls sharing one bathroom, but at least there was a toilet downstairs. The room, no matter the number of people, was going for $200, plus a small amount per week for electricity. It was a bit more than I wanted to pay for having to share a bathroom with two other people and having to get down the hill into town. The room was decent, but the walls were unfinished and looked like it was still being worked on. The best feature of the entire place, however, was that it was one of the very few houses in Fernhill that actually got sunlight, and the window was facing north and got a burst of sun mid-day, and would be quite lovely in the morning. The two girls in the other room were British and were working up at the mountain in the cafe or somewhere, Steve couldn't remember. I'm sure it would have been a lovely place to live, especially if I had gotten along with the girls, but I thanked Steve and thought to myself it probably wasn't the place for me.

The next leg of my journey consisted of walking up to the dairy on Fernhill Rd, after which I decided this was definitely not the home for me. What seemed like the most direct route was quite a long ways around and up, and unfortunately the Vknow wine bar, which I was certain from the website was to open at 3pm was posted that it didn't open until 4pm. I suppose it wasn't a total waste of time, and I was trying to judge distances. I got bored, and hating walking downhill, I jogged most of the way back into town and didn't stop jogging until I got to the start of the hotel row past the roundabout. It only took me about ten minutes to jog down the hill, but I wouldn't really be able to jog if I were in work clothes, or carrying skis. Then it was another five minutes or so to downtown.

I passed through downtown, ignoring the gathering clouds above, and headed down Robins Rd to QAST. The building is right next to the Bella Vista hotel. I stepped inside and asked for Grant, who wasn't there at the time, but I spoke with the coordinator, Patrice, who told me that Kevin was in charge of hiring new coaches and took down my information. She seemed very sweet, and I was confident in the fact that ski coaching is maybe the one job that a thousand backpackers passing through can't compete with me for.

I made it to Fresh Choice and back just before the downpour. I sat in my nice warm bed and finished my book and relaxed for a bit. At 5pm I drove up to Edinburgh Dr to meet with Di, the owner of a beautiful home in Queenstown Hills. Again a bit expensive, but I was hoping if it was as perfect as the one on Panorama Terrace, I would probably take it. The only thing running through my head was that the walk from Queenstown Hill to town was the same as the walk down from Fernhill, but steeper, and there would be no bus to take just in case. The difference, as I would find out later, is that Queenstown Hill is not a ghetto.

Before I talk about my experience on Edinburgh Dr, let me continue with the tale of this arduous journey. My next viewing was in Goldfield Heights, and when I looked at the map online it looked like there was a way to walk down from the house to Frankton Rd without too much difficulty. Unfortunately, driving out there had been a waste of time because there was a construction site blocking the easy way down, and the walk would have been absolutely ridiculous, and the room wasn't available until 3 July anyway.

My excursion had a quick intermission for dinner, and then resumed just before 7:30pm when I walked out to the car to drive up to Fernhill. Just as I was getting to the car Ben returned my call. Ben is the young man who took the 3 bedroom house on Frankton Rd that I had wanted to show Ruth and Sam. He had finally messaged me that morning asking if I was still looking for a place, and when I called back immediately and left a voicemail he hadn't responded. It was quite a task driving while on the phone, but we made arrangements for the three of us to see the place the following night at 8pm. Ben doesn't have a car, works at both mountains, and hardly has a clue how to make the transportation work in his favor, but it was worth looking at the place again.

When I drove around and around Fernhill by accident I had texted Chloe, the girl showing the room, and didn't get any reply. I finally found her street, but the driveway had about 3 or 4 houses at the end of it and I couldn't see the house numbers. She didn't answer her phone when I called, which frustrated me, and I knocked on a nearby... sliding glass door? I couldn't even find the front door of any of these places! Anyway, the gentleman who answered the door pointed me in the right direction and I eventually found the house. I immediately ruled it out when I found out there were four bedrooms and one bathroom, but played along anyway as she showed me the two rat holes on the lower level that were letting for $110pw. No internet. No way.

On to the next place, I arrived a minute or two after 8pm, though that set of units on Sainsbury Rd wasn't labeled either. Hey, at least it's not as difficult to find an address as it is in Tokyo! I parked in front of what I guessed to be unit 4, walked around confused for a while after ringing the bell and not getting an answer, and eventually was greeted by a woman who arrived in the car and needed me to move mine out of the way. I can't win.

Lindsay showed me her home; it was quite nice and wonderfully decorated with a southeast Asian theme. It was almost spotless, and the bathroom that I would be sharing with a Coronet Peak ski instructor was almost worth taking the place for. It was a large bathroom with a nice bathtub and a heater, and a window. Unfortunately it would be the only light of day I would see in the morning. The bedroom was a converted garage, which looked a bit dingy and more like the type of room I may have looked at when I was in Troy. I thought that maybe for the price and convenience I could get around the fact that the washing machine was in my bedroom... and the fact that it had two single beds in it. We went upstairs to the rest of the house. After our lengthy discussion I felt it might be a good spot for me, living with a ski instructor, and her being willing to get a wireless router for the internet, and her not being home much.

I looked at the room again after our bright discussion and tried out the mattresses. My spirits lowered again, and my love for the bathroom and desire to live with another instructor just could not overshadow the fact that... my room didn't have a window. Somehow I was convinced by the end of this visit that this room was still a possibility. I mean, it was only $185 all inclusive, with a gym in the hotel across the street. That's pretty good, right? I must have been smoking something.

Again fully stressed out I returned to the sanctity of my hostel and my New Zealand family. I talked with one of the girls about the room I had just seen and she had looked at the same room as well. Her disgust for it definitely fueled my own change in sentiment, and though apprehensive, I somehow knew in my heart that Edinburgh Dr was right for me... I think the name of the street may have been a sign, or maybe I'm just being silly again.

That night and the next morning I thought about each place I had seen, the place on Aspen Grove in Fernhill, the other two ghetto rooms in Fernhill, the ridiculous hike up Goldfield Heights, the nicer place in Goldfield Heights which was still a bit of a mission, and the place in Queenstown Hills. Perfect. It was absolutely perfect for me, except for the fact that it wouldn't be available until 5^th July, and I would still be homeless until then, and the price was a bit up there, as was the walk in possibly icy conditions. I couldn't help but think about trying to get up that hill in the freezing cold at night, or walking down with my skis and ski boots on.

I texted Di while I was on the bus returning from Coronet and told her I would take it. I pretty much expected her to tell me she had given it to someone else, or that she was showing it to a few more people, or not even get a reply back.

“That would be great. I just need you to pay the bond to secure the room. Di.”

3:57pm 23/6/10

We have a winner. But, why was I so nervous? Maybe being a wayward traveler would be best, securing the full time job and then deciding, not having to commit to that icy walk, or being stranded up the hill when I needed groceries. Or maybe, just maybe... The breath-taking view from my window, en-suite bathroom, large comfortable bed, wireless internet, lovely kitchen and living room and darling roommates might be enough. The searching, the stop to the endless searching.

I stopped by the house later last night after seeing the place on Frankton Rd with Ruth and Sam and the moment I stepped in the door I realized that yes, it was the place for me. Di's smiling face was comforting, and the conversation she made was genuine and warm. Floyd, my new housemate, is from Australia and is working at Winnie's and Ballarat, and a few other jobs during Winter Fest, as security. He's a fun-loving guy that I took a few snowboarding runs with today. Finally, finally my search is over! Yes!!!

Comforting words from home: A Call from Mom

 Hope is a thing that sustains us and revitalizes us, much like vitamin B, or other nutrients that circulate within us and keep us healthy. It's a really cheesy line from a Disney song that goes “While hope is frail it's hard to kill,” that I think of when I think about the concept of hope. It's kind of like a weed or infestation of cockroaches that you can beat down but can never really get rid of. Depression is a disease caused by lack of hope and purpose, much like scurvy is caused by lack of vitamin C. I wouldn't say that I've lost hope in my housing and job hunt, though it's always nice when it's being refreshed, or being ignored with the help of a frothy evening beverage.

For the first time, I had forgotten to take my phone off the charger and left it on ring, and at 12:30am, after I had been woken up by someone else going back to their room and I was contemplating using the bathroom or trying to fall back to sleep, I heard my phone go off. My first thought was to wonder why someone would call back about housing in the middle of the night, and even when I answered I didn't quite look at or recognize the number. After two weeks, it seems my mom has finally learned how to dial my number! What she hasn't figured out yet, is what time is good to call – oh well, baby steps.

I put on my slippers and went to the bathroom to chat with her, and told her everything that I had been doing and what was going on and how difficult it was to find work and housing, even more so than in Park City, but that I was at least trying to enjoy my time while I could. She seemed happy to hear that I was doing well, and making a good effort at everything, and in the company of good people. I'm glad that I have the best parents in the world, that understand that happiness is quite often the most important thing in life, and following your dreams and ambitions is what leads you through your path; they both had their adventures in their days as well. At the end of the conversation my mom told me not to worry; she said, “You're doing everything right.”

It's good to hear.  

Dear Diary

 I finally was able to give my CV to Stu [at Speight's Ale House], and he mentioned that the manager, Clark, would take a look at it and maybe have me in for a trial. I told Stu I would really love to work there, and he seemed very personable. I left with Ruth and went to her hostel to check the online version of the Lakes Weekly Bulletin - I had found out around 6pm that the online version was up already, and I went to see two places. I was quite frustrated afterwards, because rooms are either far away and inconvenient or super sketchy. The room in Goldfield Heights was quite nice, but at 10min walk up a hill from Frankton Rd, and there was a creepy guy with a long term rental at Reever Lodge who wanted to share a tiny loft room that was disgusting, with a tiny bathroom. At least when I got back to the hostel I felt a feeling of warmth and comfort surrounding me. I made a few more contacts about rooms and chatted with friends for a bit to calm my nerves, and messed around with some video to help keep myself on task with my goals for this season.  

Skiing in the Rain

 I went skiing in the rain today and I actually quite enjoyed it. The snow was soft and there was hardly anyone out on the slopes. The visibility was a bit of a challenge since the soft rain kept spotting up my goggles, and the color and soft contours of the snow were difficult to see from a distance, but the snow was soft enough that for the most part you could trust your feet to guide you.

The cover was thin from the rain and warmth of the last few days, but the little (and large) bits of brown spots and streaks on the trail helped with visibility. I skied all over the mountain for about two hours, enjoying the smooth, soft feel of the groomed trails. You know you're a ski instructor when half way down your second run you think to yourself, 'I should do some drills,' and moreso when you're challenging yourself doing short turns down a cat-track littered with thin patches and wishing you had ten race kids behind you to challenge them as well. I actually saw the ski school supervisors who had done my tryouts at the base today, and I hope they saw me as well, dedicated to my sport, through adverse conditions!

I actually slept quite well last night, though for a short time, closing the light about 20 after midnight and checking my phone in the morning just after 7am. However, I felt ambitious, and though the skies were grey and it began to rain lightly as I was getting my skis out, I wanted to head up and make the turns I lacked the day before. I also wanted to try going up in my boots without having to carry a pack with me. I experimented with driving a ways down the hill so I wouldn't have to walk with my skis as far in the rain, but I realized it wouldn't bring me all that much closer so I just continued driving to the park and ride just past the supermarket so I could stop at the supermarket on the way back, but when I was standing at the stop I realized I would be out in the rain for who knows how long since the bus is on a very irregular schedule, and decided to drive all the way up so I could leave on my own time.

I was hoping it would start to snow by the time I got up to Coronet, but it was still raining lightly. I actually had fun driving up the gritty switchbacks, far more enjoyable than taking the bus at 2km/hr, and since there was hardly anyone there just after 9am I got a good parking spot. I don't think I will drive up anymore unless I either need to leave very early or if I have some other people to chip in a dollar or two for petrol. I definitely was glad to have the car when I was finished skiing and soaking wet, though, and I feel like I can still do something with the rest of my day, having gotten back before noon!

I started to feel like a real member of the town this evening. I went alone to the Ale House to get myself a much-needed porter. The dark, frothy beer tasted rich and creamy. I kept to myself for a while, warming myself by the fire, and then turned to the man behind the bar milling about and asked him if things tend to pick up gradually or all of a sudden at Winter Fest. I assumed the man was the duty supervisor, since he was the only one present who would most likely be named Stuart. All of the hotels, restaurants and bars have the duty manager clearly posted at each shift.

After we talked about the formalities of winter business in Queenstown his demeanor shifted from the stone-faced pub worker with little business to attend to, to the wide-eyed and friendly local who wanted to share their experiences with someone equally as interesting. Another local had walked into the bar and began talking to me as well, and by the time Ruth and Sam had come into the pub I seemed to be in a fairly good position and Stu (the duty manager) had suggested I come in and drop off my CV since they would be hiring soon. As I figured, as soon as a job is posted, all previous CVs and inquiries were thrown out the window, and as usual, getting the job is all a matter of being in the right place at the right time.

We continued to check out a few other bars; Ant had told me that Brazz is a ski-instructor locals bar. It was a bit quiet that night, but there were a couple of industry workers at one of the tables when we entered. Anthony joined us as we were about to leave and we headed down to The Boiler Room, which had a nice rolling fire going, and $4 ciders. I went with the Montieth's cider, the least sweet of my five choices, and we enjoyed some comfy seats by the fire. We had a nice view of the interior of the Minus 5 bar with all of its frozen ice sculptures as well. After a good chat we called it a night early; apres drinks in moderation and a an early ski day the next day is definitely what I prefer. I am getting assimilated to my life in this town.  

Opening day at The Remarkables

 I hate to be pessimistic about opening day at The Remarkables, but I think I could have skied better conditions in Vermont, today. Quite possibly Snowbird has similar Spring-skiing conditions, with a light sun-baked crust and outcroppings of rock just centimeters below the snow's surface. I know today's journal is quite a bit on the grumpy side, but I just wasn't enjoying it. My skis are made for high speeds, ice and groomed runs, maybe the occasional mogul field if it's even snow, but 72mm underfoot is not really made for crud-busting! I know I am torturing myself by being laden by my pack and my camera, but I still don't quite feel right over my skis. Next time I ski I will try without the pack. It's difficult not to bring my book and food though, since the first bus home is 1:30pm and I think the bus ride is more taxing than the actual skiing. I think that when I bring my snowboard up to the terrain park or get comfortable with the hikes I will enjoy The Remarkables far more, but I don't think I will ever enjoy the winding switchbacks the bus has to climb and descend endlessly to get back and forth, though as always, the view is spectacular.

There are many stark differences between Coronet Peak and The Remarkables, most noticeably the terrain and surrounding mountain range. Coronet Peak looks like the top of a big bowl of ice cream, the snow being smooth and the landscape gently contoured, uninterrupted by trees, large rocks, or crevices. The Remarkables is surrounded by steep towering rocky mountains. It's difficult to see out from where the ski field is because of these mountains, and they make for wonderful hikes to some great fresh tracks. Both resorts have gentle magic carpet and beginner areas, but The Remarkables has fewer groomed trails and more off-piste areas and several terrain parks. Coronet Peak has the more luxurious high speed quad and 6-pack chairs, whereas The Remarkables has three slow chairs with hard, uncomfortable slatted boards for seats.

I am actually happy to report that I can't say which ski field I prefer because they are so different from each other. The uncomfortable and slow lifts of The Remarkables really annoy me, but I can see myself going there mainly to hike the park or hike to fresh snow, and not really use the chairs too often. I feel that I will find myself getting frustrated with crowds at Coronet, but it would be my mountain of choice if I want a laid back cruisey day on comfortable chairs and groomed runs and not spend 45 nauseating minutes getting there and 45 nauseating minutes getting back on the bus. I will hopefully hook up with more people in the next few days to ski as well, and have more enjoyable days up at the mountains. For now I am having fun exploring and taking video.  

A winter off from being a Ski Instructor

 What I was told today probably would have shattered me if I didn't honestly just not care. The truth of the matter is, my heart was just not in my skiing today. It may be difficult to describe, but much like horseback riding heart has a lot to do with skiing. I'm finding it difficult to motivate myself to get up the mountain and do run after run like I do effortlessly in Park City. Perhaps my five weeks at home has made me soft; I've gotten so used to the comforts of home, and maybe it's not so much that I could use a summer, but could use a change of pace from a life where I am struggling for money and where I feel that at times I am sacrificing dignity because of my position. I'm stuck in a purgatory between my wanderlust youth and desire to travel and test my limits of survival and making something out of nothing, and also having higher standards for myself and for my life. I am in this void between letting myself eek out an existence and enjoy every day as it comes, and wanting to be proficient at something and give a direction and future to what I am doing. I would not be happy living this life forever any more than I would have been happy staying on the academic track I had started and had to abort.

Sometimes it's hard not to feel that everything happens for a reason. I almost feel that no matter what I do I'm being directed or fitted into something that I am meant for. Today I tried out for the casual employment positions at Coronet Peak. I had to hide the fact that I wasn't terribly keen on a full time position. I weighed all the bad things about teaching at Coronet: having to get up the mountain every day, not knowing when I would work, the mountain being crowded and unsafe, and burning out from teaching large groups of different kids every day as I did in Australia. As I said, my heart just wasn't in it. Apparently, however, my upper body was in it, because after the ski evaluation in the morning I was eliminated from the process because my turns were once again starting with my upper body instead of with my feet. The only thing that really haunts me about the situation is the feeling that I've brought disgrace to my home mountain and my friends and my own personal status. I was told that my skiing didn't match my certification. Perhaps it doesn't; I have no doubt about Michel's evaluation of my performance today, and as I said, I think it's due to my lack of heart. I could say maybe it was because of my large pack on my back throwing off my sense of upper body, or the fact that my new skis are 8cm longer than what I'm used to, or that I've only had a few runs since April, but those would be excuses. The strength of my skiing truly comes from my desire to do it, and the thrill it gives me and the feeling I get when I teach someone something that enables them to feel that thrill. I felt like today was just another interview for just another job; I feel like it is almost expected of me to teach, or at least try to teach here in New Zealand, and the truth is that my job as a ski instructor and my love of skiing did bring me here. It's difficult to reconcile in my mind the fact that I will be here in New Zealand for a winter and won't be teaching. (Though perhaps I will by the end of the season.)

What I do here, however, will be extraordinary. It has to be. Working on the mountain would be routine, and even working in a restaurant might be just more of the same, but whatever I end up doing to ensure I can stay until October will be interesting. It's only been 8 days since I've been in the country, and months from now I will look back at the stress and anxiety I am feeling and see it as just a bump in the road of my experiences here. The truth of the matter is that these are the best days of my days in Queenstown; I am able to go skiing every day with no additional cost, meet really cool people and stay and eat for cheap in the hostel, and not have any obligations or commitments to anyone or any job yet. Relax, just relax.  

Becoming a Backpacker

 Today was a pleasantly uneventful day. I tried being able to sleep later in the morning by staying up later. I walked home from the bar at 9pm, then went to the hot tub at 9:30 and took a shower around 10pm. I stayed up typing until 11pm and read for a few minutes before falling asleep. I woke up after 3am and was able to fall asleep again right away, but I wasn't able to sleep past 5am, which was a bit frustrating. At first I was comfortable laying in bed relaxing, and then the flood of thoughts and memories and anxiety came back to me, and even though I tried to clear my head, my mind would pick a new track and run with it. I did force myself to stay in bed until about 8am, though I had gotten up to eat my banana and try to take my mind off of life by doing various things around the room.

After a while I did get up and sat myself at the desk to type again. Around 9am I got ready to go outside; the rain had subsided quite a bit. I walked along the lake up to Man St. I chose to walk up the super steep street that led right up to the hostel. I think if I walk or hike up sections of road like that I'll keep fit no problem. They had a bed for me at the hostel in a 4-share dorm with 2 girls from Finland who had worked in Auckland for two months before making their way down to Queenstown for a few weeks.

My new home at Deco Backpackers!

I went back to the Novotel and packed up my things. I was tempted to take a pillow since they were so soft and perfect, but I decided to settle for loading up on teas and soaps and took a towel instead. I got the car from up behind the gardens and packed everything away. I'm lucky that my large suitcase fits underneath the bed here. I have a top bunk, but I generally prefer the top bunk anyway. When the curtains are open I have a view of the lake from my bed, only slightly obscured by a tree out front. My only real complaint, other than the fact that the internet doesn't reach to the room, is that there is only one bathroom and you need to walk outside to reach it. Therefore, same rules as apply to camping apply here: it's too cold to use the bathroom in the middle of the night! For the most part staying here seems comfortable. Hopefully I won't get woken up too much tonight, though I know it's Saturday and most of the hostel will probably be out and coming in at all hours, but I have no where to be at any given time, and I am enjoying relaxing and working on the computer and reading my book, so I don't need to have anxiety over my sleep.

View from my bedroom

I walked to the supermarket today. It was a pleasant 15min walk up the road. The middle of the day here is quite nice. You don't really need a heavy jacket when the sun is out. I bought some fruits and vegetables, as well as oatmeal for breakfast, and I really couldn't resist getting some honey. I'm trying not to use any kind of sweeteners in my foods anymore, but I know that I am going to fill my suitcase with bottles of honey before I go back – at the very least they would make nice gifts, or sit in my mom's house for the next 4 years before getting used.

For dinner tonight I made some couscous – I really need to get used to how much couscous to use because I ended up with a heaping pile of food on my plate. I boiled carrots, cauliflower and beetroot together, then added the couscous and then the pieces of ham. There were spices for general use at the hostel, so I added a touch of curry and chili powders, though I couldn't really taste it, and overall the dish was rather bland, considering the beetroot turned the entire dish orange, and I would have expected it to sweeten it a bit. I also got multi-grain rolls from the supermarket, something to curb my seemingly insatiable hunger. I feel like when I limit my eating to how much energy I feel I need to take in my stomach tends to be quite hungry. I think it's difficult to sleep with that feeling, though after the huge plate of couscous I'm hoping I won't get hungry in the morning. I know I'll probably wake up around 5am, or if I'm lucky, 6am, but I am determined to stay in bed until the sun starts to peek through the window!

Other than change rooms I didn't really do anything largely productive today. I suppose as long as I'm comfortable here there isn't any immediate hurry to do anything, and just enjoying my free time is probably the best thing. Right now I'm going to do whatever I feel like, and for the most part I'm being pretty boring. I'm sure when everyone gets into town and I start working I'll be crazy again, but lately I'm happy being rather mellow. I think that for the most part I am working on the first part of my project, documenting my travels through writing and photos, and there is a lot to do.  

Waking Up to Queenstown

 Today, as I knew and hoped it would, my initial loneliness and sense of displacement dissipated when I saw the first familiar face in New Zealand. Just moments after strolling around town, reaching dead ends at the job centers, the rental office, and even trying to find answers at the information center, I met up with Ant. His warm and friendly greeting caused all my anxiety about being new to Queenstown to fade away. I had woken up at about 4am, unable to fall back to sleep. I decided to go downstairs at 5am to check my email and look up a few things, and tried to sleep again at 6am. My body wanted to rest, but my mind was flooded with the list of things I needed to do and the approaches I should take for my job and room hunting. My desire to go up to the mountain to take photos and video was fighting my need to stay in town and find some answers. I forced myself to stay in bed until after 8am, and after I was up and about I felt a bit more invigorated.

Off to a productive start this morning, I went with Ant to the post office where he was able to renew the registration on Erin's car and I picked up a form to apply for my IRD number. The fact that I didn't have to print the form alone made my day, and the post office was able to make photocopies of my documents for only 40c and allow the mail to be picked up at the post office instead of having to put down a permanent mailing address.

I enjoyed the ride to Arrowtown, as well as a stroll around its perimeter by the brook and a look at the Chinese mining settlement from the late 1800's. Apparently Arrowtown is the site of the gold rush starting in the 1860's, where hundreds of Chinese men would come to mine for gold and take it back to their families. We walked up a hill to a small war memorial near the cemetery with an excellent view of the town. Arrowtown is very small, with a quaint little street with some shops and cafes, as well as a small movie theater. We ate lunch at one of the cafes and I had a roasted veggie wrap, which was amazingly delicious. It had roasted red peppers, sweet potato, spinach and a bit of feta cheese, exactly the type of food I love. Ant had a deliciously heaping pile of eggs bennedict with poached eggs with soft, warm yokes and freshly cooked bacon.

After lunch we headed to Carrie's house; I believe Carrie is a friend of Erin's family and Carrie had babysat Erin in New Mexico when she was very young. Carrie and Wayne's son Tim is an olympic athlete, as well as their friend Ben who was also at the house. I also had the pleasure of meeting Jess, a ski instructor working at Treble Cone who is from Edinburgh. He had just arrived this morning and is living with some friends in Wanaka. This will be his third season working at Treble Cone, and his fifth in New Zealand; during our winters he works at a resort in France, and has a ski racing background. It would be nice to make it over to Wanaka and hopefully up to Treble Cone this season and hopefully I will see him again at some point.

Luckily after jumpstarting the battery the car was up and running just fine. We had visited at Carrie's house for quite a while and eventually continued on our way. I hope to see Carrie again this season as well – she is a very sweet and charismatic woman.

On the way back to town we stopped at the aquatic center, where they have a lap pool, a leisure pool with a slide and some water features, a full gym with resistance and cardio machines, and heaps of fitness classes. I'm tempted to do the three month pool membership, but since I may not be able to get to Frankton as often as I'd like, especially after giving the car back, I may just do the 10 punch pass for the pool, or pay as I go for the fitness classes. There are so many trails to hike and jog in and around Queenstown it would be silly to go inside for exercise.

Feeling quite a bit better about life, we returned to Queenstown and I parked the car just up the hill from the Novotel near the gardens and walked back to the hotel. I headed out to turn in my IRD application at the post office and make a few calls about housing. Each and every one of my prospective rooms had been taken. At least I know what I am up against in this housing market, and if I grab the Lakes Weekly Bulletin early on Tuesday maybe I'll have a chance. I am rather keen to have a place right in walking distance to town even if I have to wait a bit longer to find it or pay a bit more. I looked at a place in Fernhill, and after making the drive, especially up the hill, I realized it's just too far to be convenient. Apparently, though it would be easy to hitch down into town, or take a cab home from work after a late night, the bus costs $4 one way, and in the end it just wouldn't be worth it. The guys who live in the house seem nice enough – Matt is from Melbourne and works in the Red Rock bar in town, and Steve is from Long Island originally but works in Aspen and currently has a day job in IT, recovering from a back injury last season. It was nice to walk into a place and know that if I said 'hey I want this room' I would have a place to live, but I feel like it just wouldn't suit me. I am going to continue my search, even if I need to stay at a hostel for a week.

After I parked the car up hill from the Novotel I walked into town to Red Rock and met up with Matty. I told him straightaway that we had missed him this season in Park City, and immediately after saying so I realized how happy I was to see him. Matty is a very easy going and laid back sort of person and was always quite personable as a supervisor and fun-loving as a colleague. I met his friend Sophie who was out having a drink with him, and especially after Ant arrived at the bar I started to feel a sense of strength and belonging, to a lesser degree the same type of energy I feel when I am with my best friends, either recently with my high school friends in NY, or on a chairlift in Park City with my newer friends.

In addition to catching up with friends and feeling more at home in that regard, I found out that NZone, the skydiving company that Matty works for, is recruiting for a host position to greet guests. Between Matty knowing Ferg, the owner of Good Bars and Ant knowing Cat, the HR recruiter, I think I have a good chance at landing a job in the next few days. Ant and I spoke today of many possibilities, and it would be exciting to work for a tourism company, like one of the scenic flight companies. I feel like working on one of the mountains exclusively would only be closing myself off to all the opportunities of being in Queenstown. There's so much more to do here and get into than I originally expected. It's a fun town in its own right, that happens to be close to some amazing ski fields, and even if I only get up to ski a few times a week, it would be great to explore everything else the area has to offer. I'm also a lot more optimistic about being able to work ski school during the school holidays, and hopefully I can be introduced to the ski school director and secure myself a position.

I am definitely going to sleep this evening with the opposite feeling as I did last night. I feel like everything is starting to come together, and it is only my second full day. The car gives me freedom and an escape, and I have a good sense of where I want to live, though I will have to wait to find the right room, and I have some good job prospects in the area. The loneliness I felt early this morning and last night is gone, and it is just after 11pm and I am still awake, so hopefully I can sleep past 4am!  

The first day skiing in NZ

Every dollar and every minute spent traveling cannot be weighed against the experience that I beheld within my first 24 hours in Queenstown. Before 11am I was once again in my element, in my ski pants and on top of my skis. Looking out at the scenery I knew immediately this was the most beautiful scene my eyes have ever been witness to while skiing, and I have seen a lot of scenery. At the top of Killington Peak the vast and rolling mountains and trails from ski resorts all over southern Vermont can be seen; from Park City and other Utah resorts the snow-crested Timpanogos, the Jordanelle, and the shops and bustling crowds of Main St can be viewed; from the top of Vail's ski slopes the menacing and imposing mountains of Colorado span the 360 degree horizons. However impressed I have been with these sights they pale in comparison to the view from Coronet Peak.

It's as if New Zealand were a country made for people who love the outdoors. The varying topography of the landscape is what astounds me with every glance. The surface of the snow is so smooth and pure, and the snow line so defined, the mountains comprising Coronet Peak and the immediate area are like a heaping scoop of vanilla ice cream on top of a sugar cone. Below the snow line the landscape is a yellow-green or brown, fading as the elevation rapidly decreases, and meters below levels out into a valley filled with lush farm land. In this valley is a town, right up against a steep rise where there is a shelf of flat land which greets the snow line. Right above this shelf is another ice cream cone mountain. Towards Lake Wakatipu is the steep rocky mountain range that we descended next to as our plane was landing. The lake shines in the morning sun, a bright green-blue, and Queenstown can be seen off in the far distance along with the treacherously winding road up to the ski field.

The pristine white of the snow, the shining waters of the lake and the crisp air make my body feel invigorated, almost emancipated, from the pollution and impurities of America's highly populated cities and suburbs. This purity makes me feel liberated and at peace. This land is truly paradise.

Even though it has been less than two months since I have sailed through the snow it takes a few runs for it to feel natural, and my boots feel more loose than normal. I joke in my mind that losing 5lbs from my fever made it so my boots didn't fit anymore, and also curse the fact that the length of my toenails are now better suited for wearing flip flops than ski boots.

After enduring through the frustration of feeling off balance for the morning I am starting to explore more of the mountain as two more chairlifts open up. I'm surprised by the fact that all of the off-piste areas between trails are open though it appears as though no more than 20-30cm of snow lies upon the area. I'm quite certain most American resorts would have these areas roped off; perhaps New Zealand doesn't care to import so much caution rope because other than a few fences and the occasional sign, the entire area was skiable and open. I would compare most of the off-piste sections, however, to how the consistency of the snow must be at Snowbird right now – uneven and completely unpredictable. It was not the type of snow that is suitable for a first day!

Just off the top of one of the lifts was an off-piste area that I thought must be closed. It was entirely covered with snow, aside from the occasional bit of grass poking out, though as I looked over the ridge from the groomed run I did see a fair number of tracks running through it. I saw three people head down into the area via a more consistent patch of snow that was banked almost like a mini natural half pipe. I could make a fair number of turns down this area, and then the snow became inconsistent and very difficult to predict where weight should be shifted to successfully turn both skis at the same time. The snow must have fallen within the last day or two, and though not terribly heavy, there were parts that were much softer and untouched, and it was impossible to know the firmness before skiing right through it. Needless to say, a lot of traversing and survival skiing went into this section.

The experience of skiing this area of the mountain was about the epitome of the sense of freedom the mountain had given me today. The mountain bares itself to you; though there is some rock and of course grass underneath, the surface of the snow is smooth and entirely without trees. The contours of the land and the way the drifts of snow are blown is entirely untouched and natural, save for the tracks of skiers and snowboarders seeking to enjoy the landscape in all its danger and beauty. It felt not as if I were inside a ski resort, but out in nature, as it was meant to be, as if you were to strap on skis and go out in the backyard. I couldn't help but sit in a patch of fresh snow towards the bottom and look out onto the landscape again.

Coronet Peak and Queenstown gave me a very heart-felt welcome. The weather is mild and dry, and the snow is soft, and though there were few groomed runs and a fair number of people, at no time did I feel that 'skied-off' hard pack snow or icy sensation as is common with Eastern US and early season skiing. There were firm and rough and thin patches along the groomed, but somehow it all felt pleasant. There is no price tag or value that can be placed on what I experienced today, and this is just the beginning.