Four countries, six separate flights, and way too many time zones later, I’m back in the United States for good—or, well, at least until I can earn enough money to plan another trip. :)  A busy month and my failure at being a steadfast correspondent means this email will be a long one.

November 5: After hurried packing and frenzied goodbyes, my flatmate (and fellow Willamette student) Kevin and I left for the Dunedin airport.  The scheduling gods had blessed us both with a week between our last tests (end of the semester) and our pre-booked return tickets, and after four months of winter in New Zealand we decided to go someplace warm before four months of winter back in the United States.  We headed to Western Samoa, two small Polynesian islands to the northeast of New Zealand.

We stepped off of the plane, and the first thing I noticed was the air.  It smelled like a combination of wood, sand, sugar, and sweat, and it was hot—in the 90s—and so warm, thick, and humid that the pages of my passport grew soft while I was standing in line for customs.  We took a taxi, a ferry, and finally a bus to where we were staying, and I believe I was open-mouthed for most of the journey.  I really struggle to describe Samoa.  It’s post-card-gorgeous—palm trees everywhere, white beaches, calm waves on bright blue-crayon-colored water—but it’s different than, say, Hawaii, in its complete lack of large buildings.  There’s only one true town in Samoa.  Everyone else lives in villages of 200-300 people.  People sleep, often communally, under large fales (thatch huts).  The only other buildings are small shed-like stores and a surprising number of brightly painted, immaculate churches—Samoans, on the whole, are very devout Christians.

We eventually made our way to Tanu’s Beach Fales, small fales on the coast rented out to travelers, and were greeted by a friendly woman who sat us down, picked us bananas off of the tree next to her, and told us about where we were staying.  We drank water out of coconuts and listened to her talk.  For about $20 US/night we had our own mattresses in a hut, the beach right outside, and dinner and breakfast cooked for us—I definitely recommend Samoa for anyone looking for a cheap place to stay.  We changed for dinner, an impressive mix of chicken, fish, taro, some creamy green stuff that looked strange but tasted great, and tropical fruit, and then headed for the water.

Over the next few days, Kevin and I spent a lot of time in the ocean marveling at our good fortune and unknowingly developing sunburns.  We also ate our weight in tropical fruit, fed giant sea turtles along the side of the road, got caught in a few tropical downpours, went to market, rode in very crowded public buses, saw Robert Louis Stevenson’s house (he spent the last four years of his life in Samoa—it’s now a museum), and had more than a few friendly but awkward conversations with Samoans.  Nearly everyone in Samoa speaks English, and people are exceptionally friendly and kind, but strong accents on both ends (most travelers in Samoa are from New Zealand, not the U.S.) at times limited communication.  Example: I was talking on the bus to a man about the village he lived in for about 30 minutes.  He invited me to come visit his village sometime, and even pointed out on the bus where his fale was as we passed it.  I knew from my books that you had to ask permission of the village chief to enter into a village, and asked him where the chief’s fale was.  He pointed to himself—he was the chief—and looked at me funny.  I’m pretty sure he told me he was in charge of the village at the beginning of the conversation, but I hadn’t understood.

November 10: Because of the way our tickets worked, Kevin and I had to fly back to Auckland from Samoa before going home.  We carried all of our bags in our hands, the now-apparent sunburns on our shoulders making even the thought of backpacks painful, and crashed in a cheap hotel.  Kevin’s flight left a day earlier than mine, so I spent the day exploring Auckland before getting on a plane of my own.

November 12: After some flight changes, layovers, and multiple plane meals, I flew into Portland.  I loved traveling.  Living in New Zealand was an incredible experience, and the few days in Samoa were amazing.  I met enough interesting people for a series of books, I ate new food, and I don’t regret any of it.  But when we flew into Portland and it was, in traditional Oregon fashion, raining, I was honestly really, really happy to be home.

I’m in Salem now, housesitting for my aunt and uncle for a month, looking for a job, and indulging in the things, big (my family and friends) and little (real turkey breast, dishwashers, American magazines, 1% milk), that I missed when I was gone. 

Thanks so much for keeping up with me and for the emails you’ve sent.  I really do feel blessed for the support people have given me while I was away.  And if anyone is planning a trip to New Zealand (or Samoa!) soon, let me know. J

Love and thanks,

Last week I took a bus up to Christchurch and saw a familiar face: my mom! She and our family friend Linda flew into New Zealand on the 15^th, and the three of us spend a few days in Christchurch and a night in Oamaru before heading down to Dunedin.

I met Linda and my mom in the evening on the 17^th, and we caught up in proper New Zealand style in a pub over fish and chips. We spent the next few days exploring Christchurch– a large, orderly, and very British city, complete with a number of Anglican cathedrals, its own Avon River, and an intimidating boy’s high school that very closely resembled Hogwarts. Christchurch is also memorable for me because here I finally saw New Zealand’s unofficial national symbol. Kiwi birds are much larger and even more awkward-looking than I expected. If you haven’t seen one, find a picture on the internet, and now imagine it running very quickly on its giant claw feet while it bobs its head like a chicken and pokes at things with its foot-long beak in the dark (kiwis are nocturnal). Watching two kiwis play was one of the weirdest things I’ve ever seen.

Before we left Christchurch, we took a wildlife cruise for a few hours. "Wildlife cruise" is a funny name, because it implies a variety of animals, and though we past a number of birds and some sea lions, no one was really paying attention to them. NZ’s west coast is the exclusive home to Hector’s dolphins, and from the beginning we were all focused and camera-ready for the dolphins. We weren’t disappointed– once we hit the ocean they played right next to the boat– but I’m still not sure if the best part was the dolphins or everyone jumping up and down when they saw the dolphins. :)

After Christchurch we drove to the small town of Oamaru, and spent the evening penguin-watching. NZ is home to a variety of penguins, and if you’re lucky, patient, and have good night vision, you can watch their daily migration to the shore on a number of beaches. Every night groups of penguins swim to shore together, waddle onto the beach, and make their way to their nests for the evening. Oamaru is home to a colony of blue penguins, one of the smallest species of penguins at only a few pounds each, and we were able to see over 100 of the tiny birds crawl out of the water on the night we were there.

Driving from Oamaru, we stopped at the at the beach to see the Moeraki Boulders– a group of four-ton rounded pieces of stone nestled in the sand that resemble giant gray bubbles– took pictures, and headed on to Dunedin, where we saw the uni, my flat, and other everyday places. Having my mom visit also gave me the opportunity to do some of the more tourist-y things, like tour the Dunedin Cadbury factory, visit Baldwin Street (the steepest street in the world!), and stop in the middle of the road that goes out to the beach to take pictures of sheep, that I’m supposed to eschew as a local here but secretly enjoy. After a few days in Dunedin, I packed some of my extra stuff in a suitcase to send home with my mom, and said goodbye.

I saw a lot in the few days we were traveling, but I have to say one of the best things was seeing people from home. I love penguins and dolphins, but they aren’t quite the same as my mom. :)

From Sept 25:

As usually happens around the mid-semester point, I’ve had a lot of
homework lately.  Other than the work load being concentrated around
certain (inconvenient) times, though, school at the University of Otago is
pretty different than at Willamette:

1. There’s a different academic vocabulary.  In the beginning, it felt
like I was filling out a MadLibs. I now attend “uni” (university) as a
“scarfie” (uni student).  I am taking four “papers” (classes) taught by
“lecturers” (never “professors,” and always referred to by first name) in
hopes of getting “sweet as” (good) “marks” (grades).

2. The student body is more diverse.  The University of Otago accommodates
a student population ten times larger than Willamette’s, which explains in
part the much wider range of backgrounds and beliefs.  Last night I went
to an event sponsored by the Sri Lankan student association, I buy lunch
regularly from the Hare Krshna group on campus, and I’ve heard a number of
languages spoken whose continent I can’t even identify.

3. Students live independently sooner.  Students here only live in
residence halls the first year, and “flat” for the remainder of school in
small houses or apartments, living communally in groups of four or five.
This means kiwis have figured out grocery shopping, household bills, and
all of the things that come with living independently a few years ahead of
most Americans.

4. The grading system is strange.  All 100, 200, and 300 level classes
require a giant exam at the end, worth around half of your final grade.  I
realize a final exam is normal for most subjects, even at American
schools, but as a history major who’s never taken a history test (we just
write papers!), this is a change.  Additionally, you can graduate here
with a 50% average, and anywhere from 84% up earns you an A in a class.

Some things, though, really don’t change– like the need for sleep to stay
awake in a lecture– so this scarfie is heading to bed.

This is more of an archive of my study abroad trip than an actual diary-- I use actual paper for that. :)  In case you're wondering why there's so many posts for one day, they're copies of old emails I sent to people about New Zealand.